


Tsulikthinroe

by TheShadowPanther



Category: Dragonball Z
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowPanther/pseuds/TheShadowPanther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gohan as a king is a remarkable concept. But Gohan is not only a king, but a King involved in a conspiracy with the cosmos surrounding his daughter. What plans does he have for Son Pan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to my twin, Lov3the3vil, for her encouragement in posting this up. Couldn't have done it without ya!
> 
> This story was inspired by "Twelve Kingdoms" by Fuyumi Ono; credit goes to her and her series for a few concepts to be found here and there but hopefully used in a new way.

"GOOD MORNING, Your Majesty."

Gohan looked up to see Lord Earl Enrt Quain Numan Falcon standing at the head of the room. With him was a hulking boy of approximately seventeen years, clutching a sheaf of papers and looking absolutely shell-shocked. The boy's _ki_ told of his rank as Enrt's Apprentice.

"Good morning, Regnal Advocate," he answered, matching his Steward's formal tone. If Enrt considered that his Apprentice was "formal company," then Gohan saw no reason to discourage him. He only hoped that the Apprentice would not _always_ be formal company.

As if he had not possessed such resigned thoughts, Gohan continued briskly, "What solemn news do you bring to the King today?"

He saw Enrt's imperceptible smile out of the corner of his eye. Good; he'd interpreted the Advocate's formality correctly. Enrt bowed, and gestured to the Apprentice.

"May I introduce to you my Apprentice, Brisdain Iony Willgait? He has been with me a day."

"Well done," Gohan said to the dumbfounded Apprentice. "Earl Falcon is the most particular of persons."

"As well I should be, Your Majesty," Enrt smoothly responded, "thinking as I am your Regnal Advocate." The Steward turned to his Apprentice. "Go and fetch a tea service for the both of us, if you would." Enrt barely had the time to remove the sheaf of papers from Willgait's hand before the boy hurried off. Relief was clear upon the Apprentice's face as he was finally given permission to flee the presence of the high-ranked Majesty.

When Willgait had disappeared, Gohan grinned lopsidedly at Enrt. "It is about time you picked an Apprentice, Numan," using the Earl's penultimate cognomen affectionately. "It looks like you have chosen a strong one, too."

Enrt's smile was predatory. "You know me, my Regnal. I am a most particular person."

"In a fine mood this morning, are we?" Gohan smirked.

"Aye, I have found I enjoy the torturing of Apprentices," Enrt admitted. He suddenly sighed. "Fine mood or not, we do have serious business to get to." Practical as always, Enrt handed the first fourth of his papers to his King.

Gohan took them and glanced over them swiftly. "An intruder?" he inquired of his Steward. "And she evaded the military with techniques the like found in students of the College of Syre Arts?" He looked up. "Could she not have been a runaway? It is not rare to receive reports like this."

"She did not come from the Eicoi College of Syre Arts, my Regnal," Enrt contradicted. "Nor did she come in from Thogote," naming a country to the north, "and Rlalloteis is also disclaiming any knowledge of renegades."

Gohan nodded. "Did anyone happen to catch an image of her?"

Enrt bowed. "Good my lord," he intoned, holding out a hand. Slowly a bronze orb formed in his hands; Enrt's _ki_ crackled with the effort of using this Art. Gohan waited patiently. If he tried to help his Steward, the proud Syr'nthan would snap at him. Instead he watched the orb solidify and form an image within.

When the picture fully formed, Enrt broke the connection with a gasp. The picture and orb floated free as Enrt's hand fell away, unconcerned with the ramifications it caused just by its mere existence.

Gohan stared at the picture of the face framed by black hair, flat cheekbones, and bright blue eyes. Son Pan looked warily back at him, her large blue eyes unchanged from the last time he'd seen them, but containing the expression of a wild animal suddenly removed from its familiar environment.

"I see," he said simply.

With relief, Enrt allowed the orb and its picture to dissipate. Sweat ran down his brow, which the Earl dabbed at with his handkerchief. Gohan composed his face into an expression of thoughtfulness. "This is very intriguing," he said in a tone to match said expression. "Troubling, too, for the consequences are unpredictable."

"What will you do about this, my Regnal?" Enrt questioned.

Gohan sat back. "Since the military has failed to retrieve her—and the Eighteenth Battalion, too, which does not bode well—we shall have to recover her through other means. At this time I shall not make a decision," he declared, "but I will meditate upon it in the Kino'shun Gardens and listen to my heart there."

He had pleased his Steward with his proclamation, Gohan could tell. Nevertheless, Gohan already knew what he wanted to do. He did not think that the advice of the Kino'shun Gardens would follow his heartstrings, but it was unpredictable. He would have to wait and see what happened.

"In the meantime," Gohan said, bringing himself out of his reverie. "Your Apprentice is about to return, so let us move on to other matters."

Another imperceptible smile quirked the Earl Falcon's lips. Ah, so there had been an ulterior motive for sending Willgait off. Gohan had grown so used to sensing the underlying motives of the _kis_ around him that he could no longer tell outright if there was one or not, but he subconsciously acted upon them anyway. Putting aside the quarter of papers he still held, Gohan accepted the next batch and skimmed it.

"Does Earl Griffin have a legitimate complaint about his farmers this time?" he inquired. Enrt shrugged. "What do the farmers say, then?"

:-:-:-:

Kino'shun Gardens. The Gardens of the Flowering Stars. For centuries it had flourished inside the palaces of Syre, a gift from the cosmic forces to guide the Majesties who stepped within its flora and fauna. They were strange gardens, arranged with no pattern discernable to Syr'nthan eyes and glittering with dancing lights that had no source. Strange beasts prowled, shifting forms and shadows within the depths of the Gardens, but they offered no harm or help to those who strode within their habitat. The flowers always shone brightly, but gave headaches and dizziness if one looked upon them too long, and their aroma induced trances that none but the Majestic Families could bring themselves out of. These trances were why it was also called the Meditation Gardens, especially since Gohan's Syr'nthan Grandfather came into power.

Typhol Isanaon had been an especially strong Regnal, who set precedents a hundred years ago that were accepted as the standard even now. Having met the man himself, Gohan suspected that Typhol had not needed the Kino'shun Gardens so much as to make the reforms but, indeed, to moderate them so they did not damage more than help.

Nodding to the guard at the boundary, Gohan stepped into the Gardens. Instantly his shoulders fell. The atmosphere of the environment relaxed him. His worries seemed manageable now, and in time they would be resolved. Before he sunk anymore into relaxation, Gohan briskly strode out. The soporific effect upon his brain lifted slightly, but only until he reached a specific alcove that was a favorite of his. Sliding to his knees, Gohan quickly surrendered to the demanding sedative.

The world little by little faded away until there were only sparks of light, gently waving and gleaming blue patterns, and a slow undercurrent of murmuring sound—an image that invoked the true meaning of Kino'shun, Flowering Stars.

Gohan would never fail to appreciate this effect.

That was the last conscious thought he had before the trance claimed him—then he knew only peace.

:-:-:-:

HOURS LATER, Gohan emerged from the Kino'shun Gardens greatly unburdened. It was always thus afterwards, like he'd been silly to let the problems pile up and worry him so, but the effect would wear off soon. It always did.

In the meantime, he had a plan. Several plans, actually, and all of them had to be set in motion—especially the one which had pleasantly surprised him.

The stars had actually approved of the wish that had settled into his heart upon seeing the face of his daughter in the _ki_ mirror. With the stars' nay or yea to advise him, Gohan had formulated a concrete mode of action that was sure to—well, what exactly it did in the overall scheme of life he was sure he didn't know—but its first goal was to reunite him with the daughter he had not seen in twelve years.

She would not know him, of course, and he would not rectify this at the meeting; he would even misdirect her a little bit, but—

But seeing her was a gift Gohan had never thought he'd receive again.

"You are looking well, Majesty. Have the Kino'shun Gardens brought you all that you had hoped for?"

Gohan smiled at the figure standing patiently outside the Gardens boundary. How long Enrt had stood there waiting for his King to awaken, Gohan did not know, but his Steward's faithfulness always astounded him. Gohan did not deserve someone so completely loyal, but that was not for him to decide—the cosmos had apparently thought otherwise.

Still, he did not trust his vassal with everything. Gohan had learned his lesson well enough a long time ago.

"They have, and grateful I am for that," Gohan answered. "Come; I'll tell of the preparations we needs must make according to the will of the heavens. Your Apprentice would also be good for this—no state secrets shall be revealed in the course of solving all the world's problems in a single day."

He grinned at the bland look his Regnal Advocate made.

:-:-:-:

STANDING WITHIN the Forests of Ellfaul later on that day, Gohan awaited the passing of noon. His Regnal Advocate had not been the only one who protested the need for solitude in such a dangerous time and place, but Gohan had been inexorable, as was his right as King and as a person to be such when his mind was made up. Finally Enrt and his Head of the Military, Etasha Nalor, had subsided, but only very reluctantly, and only after he had promised them he would not truly be alone.

His Familiar, Wyvenshire, and Zhais, his personally-made Katana, would accompany him—and both of his subordinates knew that Gohan was second to none in sword-wielding, especially when handling _ki_-infused swords. His crow, too, was an additional reassurance, since Familiars used Arts their Bonded could not.

These Arts were strange and unknowable to people who did not possess Familiars—as they should be—but the point was that because of this, Familiars were highly effective in battle. They were also loyal to none but their Bonded, and could be counted upon to do what was best for the both of them should that knowledge be required.

Since Wyvenshire had not objected to the path that Gohan proposed to take, Enrt and Captain Nalor had finally agreed to trust their Majesty's judgment.

Gohan had only been too happy.

Since then, he'd been waiting, but with an infinite sense of purpose that made the waiting bearable.

At last, his sharp ears heard the rustle and snap of pine needles snapping under a heavy weight. The intruder was not well versed in the art of stealth, but Gohan would have been concerned had she been. Forcing himself not to move, he instead offered a hand to the crow on his shoulder. Wyvenshire eyed him sharply, but it did not seem to be because he suspected Gohan's motives or because he wished to reprimand his Bonded. Instead the bird stepped down to his hand and, helped by an upward motion of said limb, launched into the air with a loud flap of his wings.

Gohan sensed the intruder's _ki_ stop, then proceed forward at a more careful pace. He approved of the decision even as he thought it was applied too late—he had been generous to warn her of his presence. No one else would be the same.

He called Wyvenshire to circle back to his hand just as the owner of the strange _ki_ appeared around the bend.

This time the intruder truly did stop, perhaps stunned by what she saw. Gohan, for his part, merely looked up at her without surprise—which was true enough. He waited for her to decide what to do, stroking Wyvenshire lightly on his breast. From here, it would take him only a second to draw Zhais and still the blade against his daughter's throat—should Pan decide to attack, that is. Though Gohan had confidence in his hand-to-hand fighting ability, even against his own offspring, he could not afford to give away anything that might tip his daughter off about his own identity—not so early in the game.

For a game it was, this beginning of beginnings, and what would happen from this instant would be determined based on Pan's reaction.

Apparently Pan decided to trust him a little, for she came forward with no intent to attack. Her _ki_ indicated her readiness to fight should she need to, but only to defend, not to go on the offense, and certainly only until she could get away. Gohan smiled in encouragement, thinking to ease her anxiety a little.

"Come and be welcome in the forests of Ellfaul," he started. His words stilled the feet of Son Pan once more, but Gohan chose to ignore that in favor of speaking. "As the trees have allowed you to come this far, you cannot be of an ill-intentioned sort."

Wyvenshire cawed harshly then, in his version of a snort, and took off again into the air. Gohan smiled again, this time in patient amusement, and turned away.

"You look tired, young lady," he said, striding over to the little fire he'd made about a half-hour earlier. It needed kindling, it informed him. It was about to run out of fuel and how nice was it of Gohan to forget about it for so long, it had been about to worry it would be neglected entirely, thank you very much. Gohan stifled the urge to smile, though doubtless his _ki_ reflected his amusement anyway.

Through the offer of kindling, Gohan apologized for his rudeness. The fire, mollified by the sincere intention of his actions, brightened obligingly—then hissed happily as Gohan slapped deer meat on top of its logs.

Cooking things—meat especially—always made fire happy.

He looked up from his ministrations to notice that Pan was hanging warily still ten meters off. Prudent caution, considering she was in a place she did not know with a person she did not know with motivations she could not verify. His daughter had learned much already of being in this world, though perhaps she had known it already in the Human World.

Whatever it was, he would not discourage it—it would only save her life more than a dozen times within Eicoi.

Smiling to acknowledge Pan's caution, Gohan did not attempt to lessen it. She would come to the fire or not as she would—it was no longer his place to force her to do something she did not want to do. Once more he forced the package of emotions to dwell at bay—nothing but the behavior of a stranger would do here. Later, perhaps, he would be able to act freely upon his feelings, but that time was not now.

Instead he remained crouched by the fire while Wyvenshire flapped closer to Pan and inspected her from a tree branch close to her. _Adequate_, Gohan heard within his mind, _but more than direly in need of proper instruction. As it was with you._

"Tired, yes, and hungry, too," Gohan said rather than answer his Familiar. The time for that conversation was later, out of the hearing of prying ears, even if the bond between a Familiar and Bonded was as private as anything could get. "Come, there is food and the possibility of rest here; nothing will approach someone at a fire."

Pan did look longingly at the meat cooking deliciously upon the fire (and there was plenty more where that came from, knowing the appetite of even a quarter Saiyan), but she did not move any further from her position.

Gohan bowed his head in acceptance of Pan's philosophy and returned to the fire. Cheerful now, it crackled at him mischievously; now that there was no possibility of it dying yet for another half-hour, it was much more inclined towards playfulness and obedience towards its creator.

Smiling wryly at the merry flames, Gohan placed more meat over the flames—increasing the fire's happiness level even more—and carefully turned the first slab over onto the other side. Standing, he bent to gather more fuel for the fire, herbs that would season the cooked meat, and mushrooms that would share flame space until they were toasted nicely—in short, a wildwoods feast.

Were everything so romantic in real life, Gohan contemplated.

When he finally turned back to the little clearing he'd made, Gohan found that Pan had seated herself gingerly on the very edge of the fire. Bowing in deference to the young woman's decision (obviously made out of hunger and the need to rest Gohan had noticed before), Gohan placed his prizes where they would not be consumed by the ever-hungry fire and faced his daughter.

She appeared to be sixteen or seventeen, which should be right for the amount of years that had passed both in the Human World and Eicoi. The two worlds were not precisely time-sympathetic—a year was a moment longer in Eicoi than in the Earthian world—but they resonated fairly frequently with the same wavelengths at the same points. So it was by no real large margin to need to correct his guess with, but he would still keep an open mind to the possibility.

In person, Pan reminded him not a little of her mother. She had also much the same fire of spirit that Videl had had when last they—all three of them—had been together, though that was to be entirely expected of the daughter of his wife and mate. The caution might have been instilled in her from her grandmother, Son Chichi, or her Uncle Goten, or someone else entirely. It hurt Gohan a little to think of Videl remarried, but he knew he would do the same if he needed to in order to support his daughter.

And his staring was unsettling its object.

"Forgive me," Gohan said gently. "I did not mean to stare so. My name is Tsu, and I would have you relax and rest in my presence until you mean to move on. There are never enough of both in this world, and I would have some company before I, too, start again on my own journey."

Pan relaxed then, apparently seeing nothing beyond the surface that Gohan presented for her. "I'm Pan," she offered, the first he had ever heard her speak.

"Good afternoon, Miss Pan." Gohan bowed formally. He then carefully handed her the deer that had finished cooking and watched, amused, as she sloppily devoured it in her haste to settle her hunger. Wyvenshire warned him that he looked too amused, too used to scenes like this, so Gohan added an edge of quizzicality to his _ki_.

_Much better, my Regnal,_ Wyvenshire approved. He had flown over from his branch to one closer to the fire, in order to watch over the both of them better. Now he returned to his preferred location of Gohan's shoulder and pecked at Gohan's hair mock-irritably.

"Yes, yes, you'll get your food, too," Gohan said to him. Slicing at the mushrooms, he offered some of them raw to his Familiar—who gobbled them greedily—and set the others upon the fire to toast like he had promised. He would eat these to supplement his own meal of deer (though he suspected he'd need to hunt again if he wanted to eat deer at all) and scrounge up more woodland treasures before he left.

Anything left over would be a suitable offering of thanks to the spirits of the forests; in fact, Gohan had already left the hearts, guts, and brains of the deer behind as a token. Never let it be said that the King of Syre was afraid of blood and animal organs, he thought ironically. Sometimes the two were far more pleasant than some of the other duties His Majesty dealt with on a daily basis.

When Pan sheepishly asked for more, Gohan smilingly turned the second slab over. He started on the third himself, snatching up a mushroom every now and then (and as often feeding Wyvenshire as himself), and watching Pan stuff herself ravenously out of the corner of his eye.

The second seemed to satisfy the quarter-Saiyan, for towards the middle she nibbled more often than bit, and chewed more than swallowed. But then that, too, was gone, and Pan's _ki_ still fluctuated with hunger.

Pan, however, did not ask for more.

Instead, she regretfully stood up from the fire. Gohan saw from her _ki_ that she believed she could go further now, thanks to his help, and if she got too hungry again, she now knew that there were deer to pick off. And where there were deer, there were other animals, and she could also create a fire easily—

"Leaving so soon?" Gohan made himself ask. He was not supposed to know how to read _ki_ like he did, so he forced himself to act the part. "You are still hungry. Please, eat to your fill."

"Thank you, but I really have to get going," Pan demurred. "I have a long way to go, and I don't really want to be in here when it gets dark any more than I have to. So if you could point me the way out, I would forever be in your debt."

She thinks things through carefully, too, Gohan thought. Excellent. That was a skill that was not easy to learn, and was even harder to consciously use. His daughter impressed him more and more by the second. Perhaps she could survive in this world without his help after all.

_Yet I think it is a good thing that you stepped in when you did, my Regnal, _Wyvenshire remarked. _Any longer and she would not only be lost, but slowly starving at that._  
  
_She is still hungry, however,_ Gohan pointed out reasonably. Out loud, he said, "The direction you were going will take you out well enough. You'll end up in Syre rather than Thogote, but I daresay that you knew that already—nor do I blame you! Thogote has got quite a bit going on within its borders lately, but of course you would know more about this than I."

_Very clever, _Wyvenshire drawled. _Giving your daughter a motivation to learn more about this world than she knows of it—and that it is _not_ the world she once knew and perhaps loved, at the same time. _Gohan's crow's disdain was evident. _Excellently executed._  
  
_Why thank you, crow,_ Gohan said wryly. _That's perhaps about the nicest thing you've said to me all week._

Pan smiled weakly. Gohan saw the effort as the attempt for cover it really was, but chose to accept it as it was intended—as a sign not to talk about it. Instead he bent over the fire again, wrapping the fourth and final chunk of deer in a burlap sack that would suit the purpose, and added mushrooms and the seasoning herbs to it. This he handed to a surprised Pan, bowed, and watched his daughter walk away after a short awkward pause, during which she seemed not to know what to do.

While she walked, Gohan used the _ki_ of the fire to slap it out; he manipulated the momentum of its sudden absence to clear the ashes, and picked up the sundry cooking tools he had brought with him on this foray into the Forests of Ellfaul. Wyvenshire avidly pecked at the remains of the mushrooms—he liked them toasted even more than he liked them raw—then flew to Gohan's shoulder at his Bonded's request.

Turning, they disappeared into the trees that had surrounded the clearing, which was slowly becoming _not_ a clearing, but just another clump of trees. The Trees of Ellfaul would not forget the favor Gohan had asked of them today, and would exact their price when they determined it best suited them for it to be paid. This might not come for many years, it might come tomorrow, or even in the next hour—but it would be paid.

All so that His Majesty of Syre, King Tsulikthinroe Faull Whyque Quivenwood Wyvern, formerly Son Gohan of the Human World, son of Son Chichi of the Human World, formerly the future King Tsulikthinroe Oighta Chintee Quivenwood Wyvern, could meet his daughter, Son Pan also of the Earthian World, future King-Tsulikthinroe-to-be, and guide her feet onto a road the stars felt she was destined to take.

The Kino'shun Gardens had not advised him to meet her in person for no reason at all, after all.


	2. Friend

MONTHS PASSED, and when next Gohan heard about his daughter he was in the middle of a diplomatic mission upon one of his Dreadnoughts, the _HMD The Civilized Lady,_ to Syre's neighbor Rlalloteis. The messenger had flown so fast to keep up with the speed of the Dreadnought that even as she knelt before her King, she gasped for breath with huge heaving breaths. Frowning at her state, Gohan gestured for water, which was immediately brought and delivered to the messenger.

While she gratefully drank, Gohan unfolded the many-folded rice paper in his hands. His eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead upon reading the first line, and did not descend for the rest of the message. "I see" was all he said upon completing the note and tucking it away. "There is no return message," he announced to the messenger, who nodded and prepared to take flight again.

She froze when Gohan continued, "I would have you rest some more, however, messenger; in your current state you will not last long upon another flight, no matter how long or short it is." At a snap of his fingers, an attendant scurried forward and presented himself to the King. "Kindly look after this messenger and give her whatever she might need to recover; she may leave after an hour."

The attendant bowed and turned to the fourteen-year-old girl still kneeling upon the wooden floors of the royal Dreadnought. Said girl had her mouth dropping open; she closed it with a snap when Gohan frowned at her.

"Was there something wrong with what I said?" he inquired with a lilt in his voice. The messenger shook her head wildly, but did not answer, merely rose to her feet and followed the attendant to the stairs that would lead down below. Gohan looked to his left, where someone usually was at hand; he found Enrt gazing at him fondly.

"Yes?" he drawled to his Advocate. Enrt smiled and bowed a little.

"Your compassion for others is truly inspiring, my Regnal," the Steward offered. "It is all the more amazing considering how unaffected it is."

"Kings have a certain responsibility towards their subjects, even those who are normally considered invisible."

"Aye, so they do," Enrt agreed. "Would you perhaps like to have a proposal drawn up for the betterment of how said invisible subjects are treated, Lord Tsulikthinroe, when we land?"

"As soon as my business with Her Majesty Belertai Eilwyn Luith Opalbrook Wyvern of Rlalloteis is finished," Gohan answered, "that would be excellent, Regnal Advocate."

It was perhaps only Enrt who noticed the edge to Gohan's tone, as otherwise it was so exceedingly business-like that any other person would have missed it. But his Steward's eyes widened, and his accompanying bow was not quite as amused as its predecessor had been.

Gohan turned back to his previous position, satisfied that his displeasure at being left out of the loop was understood. The distraction dealt with, he concentrated again—though he did not need to—upon directing the flow of his _ki_ into the Dreadnought.

It had been quite the shock to him to discover that _ki_ could be used for more things than exploding inanimate—and animate—objects and flying. The Eicoi College of Syre Arts had been an eye-opening experience, and not just because he discovered what he could _really_ do with his _ki_.

Gohan would never, in his wildest dreams, have imagined that his mother, of all people, was not native to Earth, or even that world. In truth, Son Chichi was originally a Syr'nthan, indeed, a Regal and Heir Apparent to the Throne of Syre. She had been sent to the Earth and that world as part of a mandate of the Kino'shun Gardens, despite her status as the only Heir Typhol Isanaon possessed. Gohan could not guess what feelings his Grandfather might have felt at the potentially devastating order, but he was grateful that Typhol had obeyed the will of the heavens. And look, his mother had remained a princess anyway—just not of a land or a world that she was born in.

As far as Gohan knew, his mother knew nothing about her real heritage.

Being a Regal, and now a Regnal, Gohan could do several things that ordinary or skilled Syr'nthans could not: He could read a person's motivations in their _ki_; initiate the sequence of the Four Sacred Dances of the Sword at will; and operate the monstrous flying ships known simply as the Dreadnoughts. Only the King or the Heirs could ever manipulate these ships with any reasonable degree of certainty, and that was because only they possessed enough energy to even think about lifting such enormous contraptions of wood and metal. And Gohan, being a Saiyan in addition to Syr'nthan, of course had energy to spare.

Nevertheless, pretending to concentrate upon directing the Dreadnought gave Gohan a good cover for thinking about other matters. Again, his mind drifted over the carefully scribed Syre characters and the news they bore:

_To His Majesty Tsulikthinroe Faull Whyque Quivenwood Wyvern of Syre, _  
  
_The intruder known as one Son Pan, of Earth and Japan, has made her move. She has joined the crew of the Dreadnought-cum-pirate ship _Rebel's Melee_, under the captainship of the former Regal of Thogote Thayshir Noss Rhaulris Guessflame Wyvern (now known as Ingu Rhoat). What her motivations for this action are, it is not certain, but if His Majesty wishes, Captain Rhoat has agreed to set sail for Syre as soon as possible to deliver the intruder to the Syre Embassy. The Embassy will hold the intruder then until it is convenient for His Majesty to address the matter, at which time she shall be sent into His Majesty's presence. _  
  
_Until His Majesty makes a decision, this humble servant shall continue reporting the activities of the intruder as it is possible for him to do so, and if no other obstacle shows itself to him. _  
  
_My service to you always, in this year eleventh of your reign, _  
  
_Emdyn Agesold Kalos _

Gohan vowed that, after his annual visit with Belertai and Rodachen, and after the other King's business that usually awaited him (including that new proposal), that he would pay an old friend a little visit.

Disguised, of course.

:-:-:-:

_SHE HAS progressed nicely, my Regnal,_ Wyvenshire observed quietly through Gohan's eyes one salty day upon the pirate Dreadnought _Rebel's Melee_. The crow was looking on as the King of Syre, who had indeed managed to secure a visit to the ship, happily chatted up the hapless grunt Gohan had caught by the arm as the poor pirate was going about his duties.

"So whaddya t'ink about having a woman on the ship like that, eh, Skeld?" Gohan inquired blithely of the pirate glancing shiftily about (ignoring in the process the presence of said woman nearby). "It's rather the superstition that a woman's presence is bad luck, ain't it?" He lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. "Had anyt'ing bad happen t'ya yet?"

The pirate, Skeld, shook his head this side of frantically. "She's been a right mate, she has," the man stated too loudly, his nervousness clear for all to hear. "A hard worker with no bad effects at all!"

A heavy hand descended upon Gohan's shoulder just as he was about to answer. Gohan spun around to see the glowering features of the captain, Ingu Rhoat, facing towards him before the hand jerked him away from the pirate.

"Now lissen 'ere, you," Rhoat thundered ominously, still glowering down at him. "I'll not 'ave ye botherin' any o' me dogs while yer on me ship, or ye'll find yeself overboard wif no lifeline t' aid ye." He jabbed a thick finger into Gohan's chest and brought his haggard features even closer. Rank breath and pungent bodily odors assailed him, but Rhoat wasn't done.

"Believe me, my pretty," he said, "the sea ain't a good place t' find yeself in the middle o' the night, no matter wha' dey say in those landlubber bars o' yourn! Now, since I be havin' a need fer talk with a intelligen' human bein', I'll be takin' ye t' my cabin where ye can talks all ye wan'."

With that, Rhoat took a firm grip of Gohan's shoulder and began bodily hauling him down the length of the deck. Gohan had to allow him to do so; to make up for his instinctive resistance, he pretended to stagger and trip all the way down, and to fall when Rhoat shoved him into the cabin. Rhoat came in and immediately kicked the doors closed; Gohan sensed the click of wards for silence and privacy as they snapped into place.

"Well done, Quivenwood," Thayshir Noss Rhaulris Guessflame Wyvern drawled, his one eye glittering with approval. "I'd have taken you for a bumbling fool had I not known any better."

Gohan straightened up from his slouch and permitted his smile to show. "An excellent performance yourself, Captain," he returned. "I was not absolutely certain I was not about to be gutted for being annoying."

Thayshir's laugh was throaty. "As if I could gut a Syr'nthan such as you, Your Majesty," he stated almost mockingly. "You're said to be a better hand with the sword than any Thogotian such as myself could aspire to be."

"You shall not make me underestimate you, Guessflame," Gohan returned placidly. "The captain of a pirate Dreadnought, and a successful one at that, has more tricks up his sleeve than a seasoned gambler at his favorite game."

"Aye," Thayshir agreed, his grin easy. "Now that we've introduced ourselves," Gohan snorted amusedly, "let's get down to business, shall we? What are you going to do about the girl? As Skeld said, she's a hard worker, learns quickly, and is sharp as a tack. If somebody doesn't keep an eye on her, she's liable to turn a lot of things on their ears, and not in a good way either."

"I have reason to believe that she may be a Regal of one of the newer countries in the east," Gohan answered seriously, all traces of amusement gone. As Thayshir sat heavily in his seat, Gohan reached out a hand and curled his fingers. Immediately a thin _ki_ mirror, slightly convex, sprang up and glittered with numbers and characters.

"These are the readings of her aura signature as recorded within the last few days or so," he explained to the impressed- and baffled-looking Thayshir. "The purple bands are quite distinct, as you can see, and combined with the red in that way—"

"—indicates a person of Regal status," finished Thayshir. "Aye." He heaved a great sigh and rubbed his face. "I suppose this means you wish me to monitor her for as long as she's on my ship and get reports back to you on a regular basis? It will be difficult to do, but possible."

Gohan raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware that you accommodated the wishes of Regnals, particularly the ones of your neighboring countries."

 

Again, Thayshir grinned. "Aye, the plunder I get from your ships is _quite_ valuable, thank you," he replied, eyes dancing mischievously. "I must also thank you for not ever shutting me down once over the years, though your wind- and water-ships certainly tried."

Gohan merely gave a little sigh. "If you would give occasional reports on her behavior, that would be excellent of you," he said. "I would also ask that you or your crew teach her as much as you can about the affairs of this world, as it seems so far that she is fairly ignorant."

"That's a given," Thayshir nodded. "Can't have a Regal knowing next to nothing about the world she's going to one day govern, after all." The man gazed directly at Gohan. "And she _is_ an Heir Apparent, don't deny it."

Gohan dipped his head in acknowledgement. "My thanks, Captain," he intoned formally in the manner of one equal to another. Thayshir stared for a moment, appearing troubled, then inclined his head in return.

"_My_ thanks, Your Majesty."

:-:-:-:

TWO DAYS later, Gohan descended from _Rebel's Melee _onto the port of Rialeem, to the professed relief of the Captain and the crew. Gohan could sense from most of the _ki_s on the ship that this emotion was sincere; he'd really made a right nuisance of himself for the two days he'd "unknowingly" booked passage upon a pirate ship. One ki of this group in particular, however, especially stood out—Pan's.

His daughter had been exceptionally edgy for the entire two days he'd been on the _Melee_ with her, and Gohan didn't think it was because she saw past his ruse. Nor was it because of his _ki_, for he had long since perfected the art of dampening it down to the level he needed when he needed. It had been no secret that she'd been a girl—the entire ship knew of it even before he'd come upon it—so it wasn't that.

What had his daughter been so afraid that he'd find out in the two days from Baenttin to Rialeem? Had there been something for him to find out, or was it an instinct on Pan's part, not to trust him even with his idiotic fool disguise? Gohan considered it a good decision that he had made not to associate with her anymore than he did with the other pirates; in fact, she had been the one he spent the least amount of time with. Of course; he hadn't wanted to give away his disguise, and Pan would almost certainly have been trained to read _ki _on Earth. Not as well as in Syre, at the College of Syre Arts or elsewhere, but well enough to be sensitive to details that others would not notice.

It was a mystery, to be certain, but one that Gohan would have to leave to others to solve.

:-:-:-:

_To His Majesty Tsulikthinroe Faull Whyque Quivenwood Wyvern of Syre,_

_The intruder is getting nosy. She caught wind of "the treasure of the _Melee_" and is currently attempting to make subtle inquiries about its contents. So far she has determined that it is a person, and that the person is unwillingly upon the _Melee_._ _If she were not popular amongst the crew of the _Melee_, I would worry about her inquisitiveness, but so far nothing has happened. In particular, she has befriended the pirate Thath; this humble servant shall endeavor to bring himself within the circle of her confidants by his next missive to you. _  
  
_My service to you always, in this year eleventh of your reign, _  
  
_Emdyn Agesold Kalos_

Gohan nodded to himself as he allowed the flame of his candle to feed upon the letter. His plan was proceeding nicely, though it had had to be modified after Pan's induction into the crew of the _Melee._ Thayshir and this agent had proven invaluable to him in this respect, concocting a plan and spreading the rumors of the existence of a "treasure" stashed within the _Melee_—a treasure that was actually a person who may or may not be an unwilling captive.

The King of Syre knew the full details of the plan and appreciated the complexity of it—it required that the entire ship's crew was in on it and sworn to both cooperativeness and secrecy. Thayshir had reported a grim success with this, as the _Melee_'s crew had not, as Emdyn wrote, viewed Pan with any particular favor even weeks after her official induction. With this plan, however, the crew could pull one over on the girl _and_ look forward to the moment when the wool was ripped from her eyes.

Gohan did not like that aspect, but he did realize that that motivation was what helped the plan within plans to succeed. Who was he to dictate the feelings of men? He could enact laws and make sure that they were enforced, but only within his own kingdom, and even laws were nothing to the instinctive reactions of his subjects. Pirates were in another league in of themselves, following their own code of honor that no law of any country could possibly hope to regulate.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Two days ago, a Healer had requested an audience of him, saying that it was quite urgent. The man had come in quite deferentially, but had stated his business matter-of-factly in that irritating way of all Healers in his presence:

"Your Majesty, for a long time the invocation for the blessing of the King of Syre and the Heir has not been effective to the point of being nearly useless. This was because, I believe, of the lack of a legitimate Heir, a Regal, from your line to the Syre throne. However, in the last few days, the students at the Eicoi College of Syre Arts have seen a rapid increase in the strength and effectiveness of their healing spells. Other students in other areas of studies have also reported an increase in power and effectiveness, including those studying the Lesser Dances of the Sword."

The Healer took a deep breath and seemed to think how next to proceed. Gohan sat quietly, sipping at his tea and allowing the man the time he needed. His own brain whirled frantically, coming up with and discarding explanations, misdirections, truths, and half-truths—

He paused as the Healer spoke again. For the first time since coming here, the man's voice was hesitant, even pleading. "Your Majesty, is it—is it true? Is it true that you have fathered a Regal and continued the line of Quivenwood? Why have you not announced this before? You would greatly raise the hopes of your subjects with the news—"

"Show me the invocation," Gohan interrupted abruptly. Setting his teacup down, he met the confused eyes of the Healer steadily and held out his hand.

"Y-Your Majesty? I-I don't—" the Healer stammered. He flinched when Gohan calmly picked up the knife next to his plate and slashed it over his hand, slicing through the lifeline and causing blood to well up.

"Show me," Gohan ordered again, even as the Healer seized his hand and pressed down on the wound. "Show me the phenomenon you speak of."

The Healer stared into his King's eyes. Gohan returned the gaze evenly, ignoring the feel of the blood that escaped the Healer's press and ran down his wrist or dropped to the low-slung table. Sweat trickled down the other man's face and back as he tried to figure out what his King was thinking, but the wound soon became too great to ignore.

"Very well," the Healer said. He broke his stare and focused on the cut instead, visibly gathering his concentration and his _ki_ and directing it upon the wound.

"My Regal, my Regnal, I ask of thee your blessings for this healing spell and that it go as I desire." He took a deep breath, intoned, _"Shialt!_" 

When the Healer spoke the last syllable, which was the incantation for the spell, Gohan watched as instantly the wound sealed up and over. It left no trace of itself behind, except for the blood that dripped out; no scar remained, and no evidence that the lifeline had ever been severed.

"I see," Gohan said to the Healer gasping magnificently before him. "Very well, I shall answer your question." He was silent for a time before abruptly answering. "My daughter is still in danger of dying in the next few months or so," he said. "I did not make the announcement beforehand in fear of raising my subjects' hopes unnecessarily, nor will I until I am absolutely certain the danger has passed. Do you understand why I did not announce the existence of my Heir before now, Healer?"

The flickering _ki_ and the man's wide eyes answered for him before his mouth did. Gohan nodded and leaned forward a final time. "You will not speak of this to anyone, except perhaps your eldest superior upon questioning, until the announcement, correct? I would hate to find out that rumors of my Heir's existence originated in the Healer's Division of the College long before such rumors are expected."

The Healer nodded. "I will not betray the trust you have bestowed in me, my Regnal, even if that trust is unwilling. I apologize for my impudence and vow upon my profession as a Healer not to reveal your secret before you do." He bowed, trembling, with his head upon the surface of the table.

Gohan regarded him with surprise. Swearing upon one's own profession was a respectable promise; that it was a Healer doing so was even more impressive. Carefully, Gohan placed a hand on the man's head and accepted the oath, detailing some of the recompense the Healer could expect of the oath were broken.

The rest of the meeting had gone quickly enough, and Gohan had been left to brood upon this new development and how it would factor into his plans.

:-:-:-:  
  
"SPYMASTER AGESOLD," Gohan greeted with politely raised eyebrows as the lean form slipped in through the door. The form paused, as if surprised, then shook its head and stepped forward again.

"I shall not ever be able to fool you, my Regnal," the figure recognized as Spymaster Emdyn Agesold Kalos said. "I always wonder why, but then I remember that you are the Regnal for a reason. I am but a simple spy in your presence."

"Aye, that you are," Gohan drawled. "Now, simple spy, since you are here, I trust that things have gone accordingly?"

"So they have, my Regnal," Agesold responded, seating himself at a gesture from his King. "As we speak, the intruder is even now on her way to the Eicoi College of Syre Arts. It was quite the reaction she garnered when she simply threw herself overboard into the air and started flying. No one on the ship had known she was so skilled, except, perhaps, Captain Rhoat and myself."

"Does Captain Rhoat have a fair idea of whose Heir the intruder is, then?" Gohan asked, stirring up the tea in the teapot for his guest.

"He does, but it was only a suspicion until the intruder ran. His exact words were, I believe, 'Oh, you clever bastard.'"

Gohan laughed. "High praise, coming from one such as he," he commented. "Tell me the whole story, if you time and leisure to do so."

"As you wish, my Regnal," Emdyn replied. "It was a week before this meeting that she made the discovery. I and Thath, another one of the _Melee_ pirates she confided in, were cornered by her quite forcefully and demanded to give up the secret. Rhoat by this time was getting ready to lift up the Dreadnought into the air, which would have given away the secret itself if nothing else, so Thath and I felt it safe to tell her what the 'treasure of the _Melee_'—"

"Quite," Gohan smiled. Emdyn was an excellent storyteller, his face lighting up and his hands weaving back and forth to spin a web of hypnosis for his listener. It was one of the many reasons why the man was his prime spymaster, though not the primary one. The man normally was more composed in his personal reports, however, so there must be something else behind the performance than he was seeing.

"Thath is the one that says, 'You want to know what the treasure is?' I picked up from there, 'All right, we'll tell you.' As one, we say, 'Our secret is that our Captain _is a Regal!_'—"

Emdyn imitated the voice of one pirate, then the other, in his dialogue. The combination of both was quite humorous, Gohan had to admit, if a little baffling. He was sure Thath had not sounded like _that_.

"The look upon the intruder's face was inestimable."

Gohan paused in his sip of tea to regard his spy's face carefully. The expression upon it was reminiscent, nostalgic even, but utterly out of place upon Agesold's features. Swirling the tea thoughtfully, he inquired, "What is the point you are trying to make with this particular way of telling the story, Agesold?"

Agesold appeared surprised. "I beg your pardon, my Regnal?"

The cup chimed as it met the saucer again. "Come now, Emdyn, let us drop this act. What are you trying to tell me?" The saucer and its burden met wood as Gohan folded his hands on the edge. "I am capable of hearing your opinion, though it seems you are not as able in giving it."

The Spy was shaking his head again. "I do not know why I thought my plan would succeed; I should have known from the moment you greeted me without looking up as I came in." He sighed and took off his hat. "Your daughter's world was cracked into two by the revelation of Guessflame's birthright. She honestly thought that she would be turned into the Syre Embassy for the bounty you have put upon her head, especially since Guessflame had announced that he would be sailing by air to Syre for the Regal ball held there annually, but she knew that he had abdicated his throne for the life of a pirate. _Your own daughter_ thought you wished to kill her. I had not known she was your daughter when I and Rhoat came up with the assassination plan, but I would not have implemented it had I known."

"That is why you are not the Regnal, Spymaster," Gohan said, coldly. He poured himself another cup of tea automatically, but his motions were too smooth to cover his anger. Agesold, in turn, set his jaw, but Gohan could see that his anger was not abated. He could also see the exhaustion upon the other man's features. "Perhaps you should take a holiday, Emdyn," he suggested, setting down the teapot. To his surprise, Agesold wove to his feet in a dangerous glide of movement, his eyes flashing.

"If that is how you feel, Your Majesty," he almost—but not quite—spat, "then of course it must be so. I shall take my leave of you then—"

"That is not what I meant, Agesold."

The spy stood mid-stride, the commanding tone His Majesty used unable to be disobeyed. Gohan sighed and rose to his feet, allowing his clothes to rustle so as to alert the spy to his movements.

"It is easy for me to forget that this world is not the one I was born in," he started, "for all that it is now my home." He sighed and made a movement as if to rub his face. "On Earth, there are no such things as Regnals or Regals, only the Emperor, who is a figurehead for the real government and has no power. The ruling power instead rests in the hands of a few elected by the majority, and these few are trained in the art of politics rather than born into it, as is the case here. As such, there is less worry about assassination attempts there as there is here. Consequently, I must train my daughter to adopt the proper mindset for a Regal as fast and as thoroughly as I can—and this is the most effective way I could find to do so."

"I apologize, my Regnal," Agesold murmured. He knelt at his King's feet and waited. Gohan could see that his Spymaster was trembling; his ki showed it was both from fatigue and from expecting his King to punish him. Sighing, Gohan bent to place his hand upon Agesold's head.

"Rise, Agesold," he said to the man. His soft command was obeyed, but Agesold would not meet Gohan's eyes. "Fear not. You have only addressed your concerns to your King, and I have answered them. Nothing more and nothing less."

Now the Spymaster glanced at him. Gohan smiled gently. "I would not be a good Regnal, nay, a good person, if I took offense at every person who criticized my methods of operation, particularly towards my daughter, Agesold. I thank you for your concern, and shall try to smooth Pan's transition into this new world a little better. It helps that she is now at the College of Syre Arts, for she will learn all she can know outside of the palace there."

Agesold nodded and bowed. "Thank you, my Regnal. I...forget how generous you are, sometimes."

Gohan smiled crookedly. "Yes, Typhol Isanaon is a person difficult to forget." He patted Agesold on the shoulder. "Go, Agesold, and get some rest. I can see your fatigue from here."

Agesold smiled and grimaced, bowed again, and left. Enrt entered just as the Spymaster left; the Steward looked from him to Gohan.

"May I ask?" he inquired delicately.

Gohan smiled at him and motioned him forward. "Agesold merely disagreed with me on a point of interest and felt guilty afterwards," he said. It was a bland statement, but Enrt knew better than anyone how to read between the lines.

"He worked under your Grandfather, did he not?" he said, proving to Gohan that his confidence in his Steward was indeed well-founded. Gohan nodded, added, "As an Apprentice, as you did before succeeding to the position."

"And then when the previous Regnal retired, he ascended with you." Enrt sighed. "His extreme loyalty to you is explained, as is his reluctance to bring you ill news."

"Aye," Gohan responded, knowing that Agesold did not often confide in him as he had just now. It was only because Pan was a state secret that Agesold had come to him and not the Regnal Advocate (who did not know Pan's true nature, at least not yet). "He shall feel better after he has gained some rest."

Enrt nodded his agreement before straightening into his business stance. "The intruder has settled into the College of Syre Arts, my Regnal, as undoubtedly the Spymaster has already told you." At Gohan's nod, the Steward then drew out a letter with the stamp of the Healer's Division at the College of Syre Arts upon its front, and opened it.

"The Healer Loird," he said after glancing down at the bottom of the letter, "who visited you several weeks ago, wishes to inform you that the intruder has arrived. He says that he shall watch over her and report to you any unusual occurrences in addition to a weekly report. So far she has done nothing but eat and sleep, as she arrived at the College utterly drained of her _ki_. Once she recovers, however, then she shall be inquired about her origins and tested for compatibility for the Syre Arts."

Gohan nodded as Enrt folded the Healer's letter away and handed it to his Regnal with a bow. "Very good," he said in response. "I shall respond in a timely manner and thank the Healer for his generosity." Setting aside the letter to view later, he gestured for Enrt to continue. A moment later, he lifted his hand to stop the Steward from speaking.

"Where is your Apprentice, Regnal Advocate?" he asked. "He should be here."

Enrt smiled. "He is taking the half-year examinations as we speak, my Regnal," he admitted.

"Congratulations," Gohan smiled at him, genuinely for the first time since Agesold had entered. "Brisdain Iony might very well be your successor, if he has committed to the Advocate's Apprenticeship this long."

"It is too early to tell, good my lord," Enrt said, as Gohan had known he would. "Still, I must confess I am proud of him."

"Of course," Gohan teased, "or you would not have allowed him to enter the examination hall." Enrt smiled again, but his _ki_ remained unmoved in its pride in the Apprentice. "Give him my regards, then, Advocate, when next you see him."

"He shall have to pass them first," Enrt reminded him, but Gohan only raised an eyebrow. The Steward sighed and bowed his acceptance of His Majesty's order.

"Very well," Gohan said, his inquiry after his Steward's missing Apprentice satisfied. "Shall we go on with what you were saying?"

:-:-:-:

When Enrt had left, Gohan opened the letter written to him by Healer Loird. As he'd suspected, the letter held more than Enrt had told him. Gohan did not think that the omission was by Enrt's design but more the Healer's intent, as the _ki_ on the letter told him certain words and sentences had been hidden from the mind's eye of anyone other than his.

This was an Art that Gohan himself used very often; quite possibly this was how he was able to recognize it when his Steward, powerful in his own way, was not. The Advocate's _ki_ had not jumped in any particular way as he'd read the letter, as it would have if the Steward had noticed anything missing or out of the ordinary. Still, Gohan did not dismiss the possibility of his Steward noticing out of hand; for his Steward was incredibly discreet and could be trusted to keep silent on state secrets, even around his own Regnal.

The letter read:

_To His Majesty Tsulikthinroe Faull Whyque Quivenwood Wyvern of Syre, _   
  
_I am Loird, the Healer who visited Your Majesty several weeks ago. Yesterday we received a visitor with features very similar to the picture of the intruder that was widely distributed half a year ago. As the Eicoi College of Syre Arts is a neutral ground, she shall not be turned in. However, I am writing to inform you that not only shall I monitor her movements, but shall report to you any unusual occurrences as well as send you a weekly report on her usual occurrences. This shall be my first report, if Your Majesty will forgive my presumption._   
  
_So far our visitor has done nothing. She arrived at the College from the air exhausted of her Art, so I and my colleagues made her eat and sleep, but once she recovers she shall face an inquiry about her origins and tested for compatibility with the Syre Arts, although it seems evident that she is already so if the facts that she fell from the air and that she used so much of her Art are considered. However, Healers do not make assumptions without tests if they are not in an emergency situation, so I shall not judge myself knowledgeable enough to make them here. _   
  
_One other thing that the Healers have done is run a test of the visitor's aura. The results are attached, and are much as I suspected. I do not know what has happened to her, but may I suggest that Your Majesty visit the College soon and see to her yourself? Perhaps you could answer some questions I and my colleagues have. Please remember, however, that the College is neutral ground; if you take our visitor away, it could be construed as interference, an act forbidden by the mandate of heaven. _   
  
_I have no more to report, so by Your Majesty's leave I shall end here. _   
  
_Forever at your service, _   
  
_Loird Peint Ehonu_

Gohan folded the letter, face emotionless. Loird undoubtedly felt that he was only warning his Regnal, but Gohan was not pleased with the threats and the demand for a visit in the letter. He was a Regnal; he knew far better than a simple Healer what would happen should he "invade" the College of Syre Arts. It was not Loird's place to order him about, as if Gohan was a Healer Apprentice who didn't know his chakra from his pulse points. Gohan would have to remind the Healer of this in his return letter; it seemed that the man had forgotten the blunder he made last time.

In the meantime, however, he sat back to consider the rest of the Healer's news. It relieved him to know that Pan was in capable hands (even if two of them belonged to an impudent blunderer), and infuriated him that they had _ki_-tested her without his or Pan's consent. Since Pan was considered an intruder even in the College, however, he could not rightfully charge them for their decision, only thank them for their discretion (in the process ordering them to remain so). Still, he could use this to his advantage.

The next day a letter was sent, saying in a scribe's handwriting that His Majesty was glad that the "visitor" was on her way to recovery and that arrangements would be made for a visit to the College when His Majesty's schedule permitted, and that an announcement would be made beforehand. Gohan had added in his own handwriting, shortly before he signed it, that he would wish Loird to be more careful in his language, lest it be taken as anything other than what it was. Wyvenshire, observing over his shoulder, remarked, _This is very polite of you. Normally you would not include something like this in a letter to someone who has erred so egregiously. _  
  
_Polite,_ Gohan snorted, finally amused. _No, this is a reminder to the one who receives this letter to have someone else write his letters for him._  
  
_That is what I mean, polite,_ Wyvenshire insisted. Gohan only chuckled but ceded the point. _After this would you like to go flying? I need to take a break and I am sure Enrt can handle things._

_I would suggest you tell that Steward about the College visit before you do, _the crow pointed out. _Much as I like it when he does, we cannot have him explode in the midst of such delicate plans as ours. It is nearly time for the annual visit to the College, anyway, so you could use that. _  
  
Gohan looked at his crow admiringly._ Times like these make me remember that you were indeed sent by the heavens, _he said to the crow's pleasure. _Otherwise you are my closest confidant and the only one who knows the full truth about me. _  
  
_And things about you that you do not,_ Wyvenshire reminded him. The crow preened his beak through Gohan's spikes of hair in a rare display of affection, assuaging the uneasiness that always swept through Gohan at those words. _Do not worry,_ Wyvenshire assured him, _they are not terrible traits, but only things that you cannot see because it is you who have them. _  
  
_I know,_ Gohan said, raising a finger to stroke his Familiar on the breast. _Thank you._  
  
_Do not worry, either, about what you are doing to your daughter. What you said to the Spymaster was true and sincere, as well as approved by the Kino'shun Gardens. Whatever the heavens are thinking, you are acting according to their wishes, _Wyvenshire pressed.

_All right, I shall stop worrying! _Gohan laughed, touching _ki_ with Wyvenshire to ease the sting. Wyvenshire glared at him beadily for a moment before hopping to the table with Gohan's return letter and pecking at the dish of seeds awaiting him there.

"You are right," Gohan sighed. "Time to return to business." He quickly signed the letter and sealed it, then set it for the pages to take. Gathering _ki_ in an uplifted hand, he curled it into a ball, bent his thoughts towards it for but a moment, then released it. The little orb danced in front of him for a second, bringing a small smile to his face, then zoomed away, intent upon its task of summoning the Regnal Advocate and his Apprentice (who had passed with the expected ease) to their King.


	3. King

GOHAN LISTENED absently as his guide chattered at him through the halls of the College. He knew all that the guide was telling him about the school, having both attended it and visited it every year for the past nine years, but he allowed the boy, a mammoth of about seventeen years, his nervousness anyway. Gohan's rank as Regnal of Syre did not instill ease in his subjects, though it was they he was sworn to serve. It did not help his guide—Ki'ilin Icti Legea, if he recalled correctly—that for this visit Gohan presented a stern visage, as he did for any public outing, and projected power. Added to that was Gohan's hard-earned confidence, and no wonder people easily scattered out of their Regnal's way.

But Gohan was not only concentrating on Legea's speech. Pan's ki nearly shouted at him here, for all her efforts to dampen it. Gohan thought that she must be training or something of the like, given how vigorously it flickered and how Pan's temper seemed to be rising. It was not very far away, either, but Ki'ilin seemed to be unaware of it—until they stopped directly outside of the large training room Pan was using.

Then Legea's face turned pale.

"O-oh, dear," he stuttered, eyes widening and his hand jerking back from the door. The boy flushed under Gohan's gaze and raised eyebrow, but drew a breath and released it. "I-I forgot that one of the training masters had commissioned this arena earlier with orders not to be bothered. Forgive me, Your Majesty, and I will show you another class instead."

Gohan eyed the boy for a moment, long enough to cause him to fidget _very _nervously, then nodded. "Very well," he said, as Pan's ki flickered violently with recognition and horror, "I shall bow to the whims of my host."He ignored the nearly soundless snort one of his guards gave at the ironic statement and gestured for the boy to continue.

He noted with satisfaction, however, that his daughter's ki had nearly winked out of existence.

:-:-:-:

HOURS LATER, Gohan departed after delivering a short but encouraging speech to the packed Assembly Hall of the College—carefully keeping his eyes away from where Pan's ki resided—and speaking with the Healers. Gohan had been surprised by the reaction he found there; instead of hostility and demands for answers, the Healers had assured him they would keep their suspicions about Pan's identity to themselves in accordance with the College's Honor and Privacy Policy.

Gohan was amazed to discover that the Healers had done the very same thing with _him_ twelve years ago, when he had first started there. The revelation made the worry and tension he'd been carrying over the past month or so unknot instantly, and he had been able to answer the questions the Healers submitted to him much more easily.

He had also confirmed that Pan was in several classes that Loird had written to him about, such as: Energy Manipulation, Energy Infusion with a Fighter's Staff (but not with a sword, like Gohan did), Healing, Paper Spells, Syre Government, Culture, and Etiquette, Syre Majestic Hierarchy, Drawing, Hand-to-Hand Combat (Gohan had snorted to himself at that) and Second-Level Meditation. He recommended that Pan started learning politics and business management, much to the knowing looks of the Healers, and perhaps even a little bit of Ninjutsu, if she was compatible with that Art.

However, it seemed that Gohan's day at the College was not over yet, for just as he left the foyer of the foremost building, a voice hailed him.

"Niman!" Gohan exclaimed when he turned. His old Energy Infusion with a Sword teacher slid to a stop, wheezing, while he gave the order to his guards to stand down. "It's been a long time! Have you returned, then, from your pilgrimage?"

Niman seemed oddly taken aback. "How did you know—oh." He caught himself when his eye fell upon Gohan's garb. "Of course you would know," he said instead, grinning ruefully. "I seem to have forgotten that you are a Regnal, and Regnals know everything." His breath was still raspy, but his smile was as bright as ever for the most talented pupil he'd ever had at the College.

"Aye," Gohan bantered, glint in his eyes. "As punishment for your failing memory, I order you to stop acting like the old man you aren't and tell me why you really stopped me, other than to greet me, of course."

Laughter filled the air as Niman doubled over. "Life has learned you very well indeed, my former student!" he cried from this odd position. "I used to be able to fool you with this trick every day!"

"You fooled me _once_," Gohan corrected, mock-glaring, "and then you smacked me over the head and called me a fool! I never got taken in by that again."

"Ho, ho, ho, ho!" Niman Usander Grenghe cackled. "And what a hard head it was!" Dropping all pretense like a lady dropping a hot stone, he leaned forward. "How would you like to put on a demonstration with me? My students would benefit greatly from seeing two masters of the Red Firefly Sword spar, especially if one of them is the Flowering Star Dancer."

Gohan regarded him impassively. "What are you offering me, Niman Usander?"

Niman smiled, but mirthlessly. "The intruder is in my next General Energy Infusion lesson. This is an opportunity for you to evaluate her skills, especially since she shall be the first person I call up. Of course—"

"Careful, Niman," Gohan interrupted mildly, his eyebrows raised. "You sound as if you are offering for me to fight her, which is of course a direct violation of the College of Syre Arts' policy of neutrality. I am certain that that was not what you were proposing," Gohan added at Niman's flabbergasted expression. "But I would prefer not to step into a compromising situation that I could have avoided, especially at an institution that taught me so much. No, Master, I find I must decline your offer. I thank you for your consideration, however."

By the end of Gohan's impromptu speech, Niman had regained his composure. "You've gotten to be as slippery as a weasel-eel," he chuckled, "and as silver-tongued as a wyvern. I must congratulate you on such changes!"

Gohan merely smiled. "Then you must congratulate yourself, you braggart, for it was you I learned them from!"

If the situation wasn't so serious, Gohan would have had to withhold laughter at Niman's priceless look. As it was, he merely clouted the Swordmaster and turned to go again. When he and his guard reached the end of the road (which was literally a drop off of the face of Wakeshu Mountain), they blasted off in a flare of white light and quickly disappeared into the skies. Despite his speed, Gohan was not fast enough to avoid hearing Niman's last words of   
"There is something at work here that I do not understand."

_Oh, if only you knew,_ Gohan thought, then lifted up his chin and settled in for the long journey back to the palaces of Syre.

:-:-:-:

THE REPORT sat in front of him, laid bare for only he to see. Loird had lathed it with the _ki_ illusion, leaving only one sentence for another person to see, and that was not the important one. The important sentence of the report was the only one it was made of, and it was thus:

_Son Pan has acquired a corporeal Familiar. _

That single sentence made everything worth it for Gohan.

Not only did it mean that his daughter was judged worthy of her Regal status, but, far more importantly, Pan would have someone (even if it was an animal) to help her cope with her new world—someone to help her survive.

Gohan felt a burden fall from his shoulders. Agesold's concerns had been nothing new—he himself had thought of the possible consequences that the plan would have upon her. But now, _now_ her Familiar could offset it—

Pan would still dislike him, possibly even hate him (if she was still anything at all like her four-year-old self), but Gohan could bear that easier now. He rose from his seat at the low table and crossed over the window seat instead, where he sat gazing upon the fire-colored flowers waving gently outside. There he brooded upon his memories of his daughter, dredging them up from the necessary sinkhole they'd dropped into when he'd fallen into this world.

It had been very like Alice in Wonderland. Gohan had been driving home on his way from work, grocery bags in the back from the shopping he'd detoured to do. There had been a blink, a sudden jarring bump, and he'd been airborne. With the quick reflexes of a fighter honed over a lifetime (even unused as they had been for the last decade), Gohan had expertly flipped himself over...

Only to hit feet-first a tree that had not been there before. And Typhol Isanaon had been staring balefully at him from the pine-needle coated ground not a few feet below him. Needless to say, the grizzled old man with his two hands behind his back and a physique in top form had _not_ been what he'd expected. To make a long story short, Typhol had calmly explained, through fending off his grandson's attacks, several things that had sent said grandson reeling.

He'd only started to truly despair when he discovered he couldn't go home again. Then he'd nearly exploded with both impotent rage (surprising himself in the process) and grief, but nothing had worked, nothing had fazed the man who had turned out to be his maternal Grandfather, not even Gohan's impressive Super Saiyan powers.

His stoicism had won the day.

Two brutal years followed, one at the College of Syre Arts, one as a Regnal under Typhol's tutelage. Wyvenshire and Zhais had been incredibly helpful during his period, aiding him in maneuvering the quagmire that was first the College and then the absolute catastrophe that was the political machinations of the Syre Court. The other Majestics at the time had not viewed him well, in particular one Duke Gour Huhin who had apparently expected to inherit when Typhol Isanaon stepped down. Gour had been disgruntled enough when the then-Regnal had refused to retire after the traditional fifty years, instead citing that he still had quite a few years of the Regnation left in him, thank you very much.

Of course, no one had taken that to mean another fifty years.

Typhol had officially handed over the throne in Gohan's third year, however. From then on, Gohan had essentially been left to his own devices.

He rather thought he'd done very well.

It was _then_ he'd found out what Typhol had kept from him, that there was indeed a way to—

"I do not think I have ever seen you quite this informal before, my Regnal," Enrt's voice interrupted. Gohan lifted his head briefly to see both the Steward and his Apprentice with worried expressions upon their countenances before turning away again. Suddenly grateful for his brooding mood, Gohan gestured at the letter without a word.

He watched as in the window, the Steward's reflection picked up the letter and promptly dropped it again. The reflection stared in horror at his Regnal while Brisdain Iony picked the paper up himself. As Gohan's gesture had both indicated the correspondence and removed the _ki _illusion, he was able to read the single line as well as his Regnal could, and his Master. He looked up, confusion wrinkling his brow, just as Enrt whispered:

"That means that the intruder is your daughter!"

:-:-:-:

"HUH?" BRISDAIN Iony said. Gohan looked up just in time to catch the Apprentice's flush (likely at attracting the attention of both his Regnal and his Master with such an unintelligent reaction), and waited as the young man cleared his throat. "Forgive me, my Regnal, Master," he started again much more sophisticatedly, "but I cannot follow your line of conversation. How does having a corporeal Familiar mean the intruder is your daughter?"

Gohan smiled briefly at the Apprentice. "You know that Familiars are spirit-animals that are sent from the heavens to people judged worthy of them, correct?"

Brisdain nodded.

"How strong said Familiars are depend on how strong Art-wise the Bonded is; the stronger the Bonded, the more solid the Familiar seems."

The Apprentice's eyes grew wide. "So corporeal Familiars—Familiars with a solid, physical body—only appear for people who are _very_ strong, people who are Majesties," he finished, his voice shaking. "And since only Syr'nthans have Familiars—"

"It means that Son Pan is a Syr'nthan Regal, and my daughter." Gohan inclined his head in acknowledgement, and sighed. "I have some...adjustments to make, it seems."

"My Regnal." Enrt had apparently recovered from his shock, for he stood, pale and grim, but tall like he always did. Gohan felt a brief flash of pity for his Steward, but schooled it behind his inquiring mask. "We do not know for sure if she is your daughter or not. The Familiar may be corporeal, but that by itself does not indicate royalty. If it has told the intruder that she is—that is another story altogether."

"You are right," Gohan noted (while inwardly he was quietly amazed at his Steward's capacity for denial). "We shall have to find some way to test the claim. What say you?"

As Enrt immediately set about constructing plans, Gohan inwardly smiled. Nothing like knowing things other people did not to cheer him up.

:-:-:-:

IT WAS a full calendar year since Pan's arrival in Eicoi (or at least Gohan's report of it), and she was glaring at the man who had seen her through a memorable sixth of it. Ingu Rhoat, or the former Regal Thayshir Noss Rhaulris Guessflame as she'd learned at the last, merely grinned toothily at her. Everywhere else around them, pirates grappled with half-trained students, competent teachers, and even the Headmaster of the College, Chaus Enoz Ghihan himself. One or two had approached Pan to try and challenge her, but she had learned quickly with the Spear of the Blue Dragonfly, defeating them easily. And now her former Captain stared her down.

_Rebel's Melee_ had come to the College of Syre Arts.

"'Ello, lassie," he greeted her, swinging his monstrous Chinese sword over his shoulder. Pan coldly ignored the words, instead settling into her ready stance and pointing the tip towards Rhoat. The pirate frowned at her mockingly and wagged a single thick finger at her. "Now, now, lassie, I'll be 'aving none o' tha'. Ye wouldna wan' t' fight yer cap'n, now wouldye?"

"You are not my captain anymore," Pan said in a steady voice, though her eyes flashed. Rhoat feigned a look of surprise and nearly dropped his sword in his effort to clutch at his chest. Pan, however, did not fall for the bait, only narrowed her eyes.

"Ye wound me, lassie! Wha' do ye call th' two months we spent t'gether on th' sea, then?" Rhoat inquired, still trying to be dramatic.

Pan's eyes narrowed further. "A mistake," she replied chillingly, causing Rhoat to drop his histrionics. Instead a maniacal grin spread over his face and he rebalanced his sword upon his shoulder.

"A mistake, ye say? Well, lassie, I normally would take ye up t' task, but as ye say, ye ain't one o' my men an' ye wouldna be able t' stand up t' me." He nodded to the spear Pan unwaveringly leveled at him. The young woman suddenly laughed mirthlessly and shook her head.

"Oh, I think I'd be able to stand up to you," she said. "I myself am a Regal!"

For a moment, real surprise crossed Rhoat's face. Then he grinned again and finally lowered his behemoth of a Chinese sword. "Ye are, are ye? Which country d'ye belong t', then?"

Pan twitched the top of her spear at him, to warn him away from attacking her underhandedly. "Syre," she said firmly. "My Familiar has told me that my father is the Regnal of Syre!"

Rhoat snickered throatily. "Won' he be in fer a shock, then," he said. Settling more properly into a recognizable stance, he met Pan's eyes, challenged, "All righ', lassie, lessee wha' ye got!"

He had barely finished speaking when Pan was upon him. She dodged his hastily thrown up sword and flipped backwards, kicking up her feet as she went, then sweeping her spear at Rhoat's feet when she landed. Rhoat skipped back a few steps, which gave Pan time to step in with a wide cut at his middle. The sword saved its master, but Pan pushed forward and nearly made the pirate Captain stumble. Pan was then surprised by the sleight of hand Rhoat performed, allowing the Captain to slash at her face. He did not manage to cut it, nor did he manage to backhand her with the flat of his blade, but Pan fell back and into her stance, panting only slightly. In contrast, Rhoat levered himself off of the ground, his breaths coming harshly and sweat dripping into his face. He ignored these and said, instead, to Pan:

"Are all you Syr'nthans like this? It doesn't seem fair that you should be; how's a man supposed to hit you if all you do is dodge and strike? It takes the fun out of it and only makes me determined to kill you all the more."

Pan only smirked. "First you have to catch me," she taunted. Rhoat chuckled, then dived unexpectedly at her. She waited until the last second to block, then swung the spear at Rhoat's back. Pressing down on her weapon for leverage, she hoisted herself up and drove the Captain's head down to the wood of the _Melee_'s deck with her foot.

"Ugh!" cried Rhoat while Pan did another backflip. She misjudged the distance to the ground, however, and stumbled upon landing. Hearing Pan's landing through the cries and clangs of battle, Thayshir struck out blindly and knocked loose the spear from Pan's loosened grip. He huffed with satisfaction as the spear skittered away. "Now you can't use the Spear of the Blue Dragonfly Style," he said, not quite gleefully. "You're unarmed now."

Pan somersaulted to her feet and gave Thayshir, standing and holding his face, a singularly sweet smile. "Oh, no, I'm not," she retorted. "You'll have to cut me down before I'm unarmed." Before he could respond, she launched herself forward and blurred past him, where she whirled and stomped im in the back.

"Wagh!" Thayshir shouted as pain erupted in his lower back and he found himself flying forward. Pan raced after him and held him back from smashing into the mast, but she herself slammed him into it, adding more injury to his face and robbing him of breath at the very least.

Slowly crumpling to the ground, Thayshir released his sword and fought to breathe. A food nudged him over to see the impassive face looming over him and the bladed tip of a staff held directly in front of him.

"Yield," said she authoritatively. Thayshir grinned painfully and slowly raised his arms as high as he could.

"I yield," he agreed. "I told him I wouldn't be able to beat you squirrelly Syr'nthans."

"What?" gaped Pan. "Told who? Who did you tell?"

But Thayshir only shook his head. The scene became foggy and crystallized, as if seen through a warped mirror, which it was, in fact. The Nutrit Glass was an enormous _ki_ mirror situated in the tiled Reulle Square at the very middle of the palaces of Syre. It was designed so that anyone with enough ability to manipulate _ki_ could see anywhere in Syre they wished—as long as it was outside. Inside buildings or tents or anything with a roof was classified as private property, so the act of scrying into said places was illegal and literally unable to be done with the Glass. Gohan touched the front of the Glass to let the image fade, and stood silently as the last vestiges of Pan's face lingered. Inwardly, he was smiling fondly at the banter his daughter had used—particularly about not being unarmed—but outwardly his face resembled the stones underneath his feet.

"Prepare Sulyild," he said suddenly into the silence, pregnant and expectant. Enrt beside him immediately turned as if to go, but Gohan stayed him with, "Wait. How do the preparations for the Ifrifor go?"

"Very well, good my lord," the Steward responded cautiously, warned by some instinct as to his King's mood. Gohan nodded, then lapsed into silence again. Abruptly he turned on his heel and strode across the tiles, passing by the attentive Steward on his way.

"My Regnal, where are you going?" he called after his King, worry lacing his tone now. Gohan did not stop, but said over his shoulder,

"The Kino'shun Gardens."

Then Gohan passed the historic columns marking the edge of the gigantic Reulle Square, and saw no more of his Advocate for the rest of the afternoon.

:-:-:-:

AFTER THE meditation in the Gardens of the Flowering Stars—which he undertook as much to keep up the pretense as to actually soothe his stress away—Gohan felt much better. The Kino'shun had told him that he was doing very well, and, when directly questioned, that yes, divine intervention was partly the cause of it.

Because of this confession of a kind, he was able to say peacefully to his Steward upon emerging that "Things shall work themselves out according to the gods' will. We can only follow where they point and adapt ourselves as best we can." Enrt looked much assured, but whether it was because of Gohan's advice or because his King was at peace again, not even his _ki_ could tell.

As it was, Gohan was soon busy again, this time in arranging rewards, professing condolences, and generally lauding the heroes of the College of Syre Arts who had defended Wakeshu Mountain against the encroachment of the pirate Ingu Rhoat and his notorious _Rebel's Melee_. He appeared to be especially conflicted in the case of Son Pan, the now-famous Intruder of Syre Turned Defender, but chose to do the honorable thing and count her as among the College's blessings, not as its one blight. He even chose to finally withdraw the price upon her head and to begin addressing her as "Lady Pan" in his relevant letters in deference to her claim of Regal status. But all eyes were looking towards the anticipated Awards Ceremony, to be held in seven days' time at the palaces of Syre, and what treatment the King of Syre would offer the controversial hero and, supposedly, his daughter.

Gohan very nearly smirked with satisfaction.

Instead of the smirk he wanted to display, he had instead an appropriately solemn face on when at last the large company of College students filed into the grand reception hall of Echrilo, the foremost of the Syre palaces. No sign of his inward feelings showed upon his face, and his _ki_ did not flicker with anything other than attentive dutifulness, pride, and not a little bit of sorrow for those students whose lives had been laid down for the College and for Syre. (Inwardly Gohan snorted at the last—the students had not been so noble to think about anything except their own lives at the time. But he was King, and Kings were patriotic creatures....) Nothing shook his calm, even Pan's steady stare at his dais, or the wink that the black-and-cream dog at her feet gave to his Familiar, who sat upon his shoulder and gazed upon the rank and file as magnanimously as did his Bonded.

Gohan was a little concerned at the sharp intake of breath Pan took when her eyes landed upon Wyvenshire, but his ceremonial duties and the crow's own reassurances prevented him from worrying overly much about it. Instead he announced that after the awards ceremony there would be "a reception in the Banquet Hall and the Ballroom" for those who were interested in remaining after the Awards Ceremony. Pan's ki instantly shuddered with satisfaction and determination all at once—he nearly smiled again, this time sadly. Despite that urge, he looked to his Steward, who looked to Brisdain Iony, who handed over the first medal to be draped around the first student's neck. Over and over they repeated this small ritual, Gohan smiling at the reverent faces and returning their bows of thanksgiving, until the person before Pan (who was last of the students) stood before him.

"Ah, Ki'ilin Icti," Gohan smiled as the lanky giant stepped hesitantly in front of him. The young man seemed startled, as if he had not expected Gohan to address him, and stammered. "Worry not, I only recognized you from when you showed me around the College. There is nothing in my mind about you other than that." Despite his assurance, or perhaps because of it, Ki'ilin Icti's eyes widened. Gohan crinkled his eyebrows together as if in confusion, but wrapped the medal around the boy's neck without another word. Relief and not a little worry tinged Ki'ilin Icti's features and his _ki_ as he hurried off—

—and no wonder, for Pan's countenance was a storm of her feelings.

"Lady Pan," Gohan greeted her formally. The bow he gave her was different from the bow he'd given the other medalists—the bow of a Regnal to a Regal. Murmurs filled the hall after the tacit acknowledgement of Pan's rank, but silenced quickly as the sources waited for Pan to respond.

Slowly, never keeping her eyes off of him, Pan dipped low. The blue eyes burned into him with an expression for him and him alone, and publicly accepted his authority over hers—even if privately she did not. Gohan appreciated the gesture, however, for it meant that Pan was willing to keep the peace for the chance to solve their dispute discreetly.

The beauty of politics.

Gohan inclined his head when Pan straightened and bent to place the medal around her neck. "I want to talk to you, Your Majesty," she requested in a tone that would have been a demand if not for its quietness. Gohan responded in a similar voice, "Find me in the Banquet Hall afterwards. Your Familiar knows mine—it shall not be hard." He stepped back and nodded again to Pan's narrowed eyes. After a second, she turned on her heel and left the stage, but her repeated glances behind her left no doubt in anyone's mind what she really wished to do.

Gohan ignored it all and instead nodded at the middle-aged adult next to step up. The list of teachers, volunteers, and other adults in the employ of the College was considerably shorter than that of the students, but no one in the audience was interested now that the real performance was over. Buzzes of conversations filled the hall, cresting louder when the last adult (the Headmaster Chaus Enoz Ghihan himself, in point of fact) stepped down from the dais. Gohan waited patiently, practiced in this form of public appearance, and slowly the conversations died.

When silence finally suffused the giant Reception Hall once more, Gohan only smiled and said, "The Banquet Hall?"

Laughter and smiles greeted his ears, as did footsteps and the great shuffling of many bodies participating in the mass exodus from the Hall. Gohan waited patiently until the line had thinned out into a manageable press, then descended from his dais to a small door on the side of it that led to the Banquet Hall. The Steward and his Apprentice had disappeared through it some time before, as they were supposed to; now after the Regnal of Syre, the door locked itself to anyone coming or going and hid itself from the view of those not of Regnal blood. No one saw the King of Syre, Tsulikthinroe Faull Whyque Quivenwood Wyvern, disappear, no one in the Banquet Hall saw him arrive, and it was some time before anyone thought to question exactly when the King moved from his place upon the dais, or how.


	4. Person

GOHAN HAD been in the Banquet Hall for all of four minutes before anyone noticed his presence. Even then it was not Pan that bore down on him but one of his Majestic Court, a Duke by the name of Ttleta Sasumo Sinague Wyvern. She was not so unmannerly as to seize his arm and drag him from the room, but she did start in a voice that was only just appropriate for the mood of the Banquet Hall:

"Will you believe the nerve of that upstart? Claiming a rank that is far too good for the likes of her, much less that of Regal! Really, Faull, you must stop this nonsense before it gets all out of hand." She nearly pouted—yes, pouted—while snapping open her fan and fanning herself.

Gohan raised his eyebrows at the Majestic. "Your Grace," he responded mildly, subtly reprimanding her for using his first name in such a formal setting, "you know very well that as Regnal, I cannot do that. I must accept the claims of those who declare themselves Regals and test them in some form or another. If said claimants do not pass the test, and I do not have an Heir borne to me, then I must bequeath the Regnation to one of the Majestic Court when I die. As such, I cannot simply dismiss this young woman out of hand, whatever opinion other persons may hold."

Ttleta Sasumo would have liked to glare at Gohan, but his authority as Regnal and the reasonable tone of his voice quelled the urge. Instead she smiled at him, her handsome face lighting up, and opened her mouth again, but before she could go any further than, "My Regnal," someone cleared a throat behind them.

"My Lord Earl," Gohan greeted the Steward amiably, while Pan and her black and cream dog—Wyvenshire unexpectedly informed him acerbically that the Familiar's name was Fulunke—stood behind him, looking disgruntled for the former, the latter radiating solemnity.

"My Lord Quivenwood," Enrt responded with a bow. "My Lady Sinague," he addressed to Ttleta Sasumo, also with a bow. "Her Ladyship behind me requests a word with His Majesty."

"Very well." Gohan bowed politely to Ttleta, who cast him a look just this side of a glare, but curtseyed in return. As she whisked away, snapping her fan shut, Gohan turned to the Steward and his guests. "Thank you, my Lord Earl. I shall take Her Ladyship from your hands now." He smiled as Enrt bowed a third time, relief and worry commingling in his _ki_. "Before you return to your duties, I would like you to look in on Sulyild and see if he is ready for myself and Her Ladyship."

"I have done, my Regnal. Sulyild awaits you both eagerly."

"Well done," Gohan smiled with genuine appreciation. His daughter's _ki_ flickered sharply for a moment, to his utter confusion, but it steadied into its familiar determined pattern when he turned to her. "Please follow me, my Lady; we shall remove this to a setting more private than the Banquet Hall."

Gohan barely felt it as Wyvenshire launched from his shoulder, for he was concentrating on Pan's nod and the satisfaction creeping into her _ki_. He merely offered his arm instead of commenting, and away they went, sweeping out of the Banquet Hall with all the dignity as if Pan were already established as a Regal, and they were simply two Majesties on a stroll.

Gohan hoped very much that they _would_ be two Majesties on a stroll soon. It all depended on what choice Pan, his _daughter_, made when Sulyild was done with her.   
  
He dropped his daughter's arm from his when they passed a certain door. Stepping toward it, he gestured for Pan to follow. Even with Gohan's confident step, Pan still wavered when the lights abruptly darkened on the door's close. It was possibly only Gohan's hand on her shoulder and his gentle command to follow that started her forward again, and Gohan had his first clue as to other aspects of his daughter's personality besides her fiery nature and apparent ability to hold a grudge. Yes, and her sense of humor as well.   
  
Perhaps because Gohan knew the path so well, but the end of it did not come as a surprise to him. Pan's _ki_, however, flickered anxiously more and more by the second, and the shoulder that he had his hand on was a knot of tension. Gohan knew that Pan would not accept any verbal reassurances from him, but every so often down the darkness-filled path, when it was not unreasonable, he squeezed the shoulder he held and lingered it there for as long as his daughter did not seem to notice. He wished he had thought to bring Pan's Familiar along, before he remembered that Sulyild did not allow the heaven-sent creatures in with their Bonded, not when he was testing them, the both of them. The only thing that the Bonded were allowed was their weapon, and it seemed that Pan had not yet found her Blue Dragonfly.   
  
With only half a year's training, if even that, Gohan was not much surprised. It would not be impossible for Pan to survive, but it would be some time before she was in a fit state to make decisions as large as the one she'd face after Sulyild.   
  
And Gohan was under increasing pressure each year to produce an Heir.   
  
Well. He had held them off this long. He could do another year at least, if he needed that long. Somehow, he didn't think he would need to—but that was hoping for too much. He did not know Pan anymore and had no right to make guesses as to what his daughter would decide. Heart-wrenching, but true.   
  
At last they stumbled onto the end of the path. Gohan, and Pan too, could tell when the narrow corridors widened into a soaring cavern, for the air was fresher, they could no longer touch the walls, and they could sort of _see_. Low, flickering lights fluttered into life at their feet, spreading from there to the walls and around, until the entire place was lit. Then they slowly brightened, until they were at full power, but had not destroyed either Gohan or Pan's night vision.   
  
That was when the black figure in the middle moved. 

"My Regnal," it boomed, nearly flattening in the volume of sound after the silence of the path. "To what am I indebted for this pleasure?"

"Sulyild." Gohan inclined his head toward the Guardian of the Succession, whom all Syr'nthan Regals had to conquer before they were considered established Regals, and therefore eligible for the Regnation. If Sulyild declared a Regal challenger unworthy, then the challenger would not rule. If said challenger did not agree with said judgment, then he or she was allowed to try again after one year.

They were only allowed another chance.

"I bring a challenger for the Succession," Gohan continued, pushing Pan forward and releasing her shoulder at last. Pan bowed, the form of a challenger to an incumbent; Sulyild's eyes (oddly placed), glinted in the glittering lights. "Please test her as far as you are able."

"As you wish, my Regnal," Sulyild replied, then addressed Pan directly. "Do you know me, challenger?"

"You are Sulyild, the mystical Guardian of the Succession," Pan rattled off. Gohan watched his daughter's hand tighten upon her Blue Dragonfly Spear. "I am to fight you."

Though Pan's voice was steady, her last statement was more of a question. Gohan turned as Sulyild answered, "Yes," in a measuring tone of voice and began circling in a wide, slow circle. He did not see how Pan reacted, but her _ki_ was only determined again, and confident. Gohan could only hope that she remained this way, and was able to grow even more than she had for the past year. Maturity was a hard taskmistress; not everyone was able to bear her yoke.

Heart heavy, Gohan listened to the clashes of metal upon claw, flesh upon flesh, wood upon flesh. He was almost at the beginning of the path again before the darkness swallowed the sounds up, but light was there to greet him, light and chatter, wineglasses tinkling and rustling cloth, the steady gaze of his Steward, the cares of a politically-driven world, and he blinked as the mask of the Regnal settled over him once more.

He could do nothing more for his daughter now, but look to his own affairs and prepare for the outcome. Whatever the outcome was, life as a Regnal had become both easier and harder. If Pan failed, his conscience would be clear to select a Majestic as his Heir and test _that _one in turn. If Pan succeeded, then he need only teach her how to be a Regnal. Of the two, the first would cause discontent to rise amongst the Majestics. Of the two, the last would be the harder to do.

He took a deep breath, released it. Meeting the Steward's eyes, he smiled slightly and said, "Shall we return to the gathering?"

Enrt Quain Numan Peregrine, Earl and Regnal Advocate, nodded and turned away. Gohan moved without hesitating, sliding smoothly into the role he'd held for the past eleven—no, twelve—years, and something inside of him, a small flicker that had burned quietly for a year, died.

Yes, his life as a Regnal had changed indeed. How much so depended on how much one girl was willing to sacrifice in order to fulfill her destiny.

:-:-:-:

THE BANQUET Hall had just emptied when Gohan felt Pan's _ki_ drop dangerously. Instantly he tensed and reached for Wyvenshire, who immediately croaked one single time. The Banquet Hall buckled and collapsed, but Gohan paid no heed. Zhais was unsheathed in his hand even as he snapped it out and shouted, "_Ter!_"

Pan's back jerked straight in a spasm; the Blue Dragonfly Spear dropped from her hands and clattered across the floor to Sulyild's feet. Sulyild turned upon his Regnal with wild eyes, but Gohan swung Zhais into its sheath, stepped into a stance, and withdrew again his Red Firefly, moved both it and him in tune with the words, "First dance, first dance, Sonador, _Sonador!_"

Sulyild immediately stopped and stood there, eyes glazed over, breath stuttering. Gohan pointed Zhais down at the ground, hands wrapped around the hilt, and shoved his arm forward and back, clasping the sword at his ear, even as out rolled, "Second dance, Konsui!"

He didn't wait to see how this second incantation affected Sulyild, but whirled around and spun his sword down to the ground when he faced forward again. He bellowed, "Third dance, Cente!", and Zhais awoke abruptly in his hands, thrumming loudly. Glittering sparks burst from it and revolved wildly around Gohan like miniature planets, lighting up the caverns in bright blue streaks and deeper shadows.

Sulyild was completely paralyzed now, not that that mattered when he was not even aware to resist. Sonador had sent him into a walking sleep, and Konsui had relaxed the body until it could not move, but it was Cente which had removed the Guardian completely out of his mind into the welcoming—and cold—arms of forced insanity. Cente, besides decommissioning the mind, also bound the soul for the next and final dance.

Gohan, breathing calmer now, rose from his crouch to settle back on his most rear-reaching leg, which was his right, and sighted down Zhais' blade laid straight out from his ear. With two forefingers of his left hand sweeping down the metal, he aimed carefully at the prone form of Sulyild and murmured, "Fourth dance, Pth."

The glowing globes of light rushed from him to spiral up Sulyild's form. They gyrated ever faster and faster, emitting streams of light in their wake, until Sulyild was encased in a slowly spinning cylinder of blue—

That, by some unseen signal, scrunched suddenly in on Sulyild and exploded outwards. Gohan stood solidly before the gust, but in the back of his head he could hear from behind him a gasp and a struggle to get free. Then the energy swept over him, and it was over.

Sulyild was no more.

The ring that Zhais made when it slid home into its sheath could not have been any louder. Gohan turned to Pan then and told her calmly, though his pulse still raced, so his tone was a little harsh despite himself, "Only the Four Sacred Dances can quell Sulyild. Clearly you have not learned them," Gohan breathed in and out, "Your Highness."

He smiled grimly at Pan's shock, decipherable through her continued paralysis. "Oh, yes, you have proven yourself a Regal despite the lack of the Four Sacred Dances. Sulyild told me of his approval of you before I dismissed him." Indeed, in those wild eyes had not only been a demand to stay out of the fight, but also nearly a _com_mand—as much as a Guardian of the Succession could give to an already established Regnal—to instate Pan as his Heir.

One problem solved.

"However," he continued before anything could break his rhythm, including himself, "it is not yet over for you. You have one final obstacle to overcome, and it starts now." A gesture of his fingers, an odd twisting flick of them, and the ground beneath them glowed. The peculiar arrangements of the lights explained itself when revealed were the lines running to and from all of them, and how they formed into a particular pattern.

Pan, her limbs spread akimbo still due to her father's spell, was directly in the middle of it.

One look, half-horrified half-weary, was all she could level at him before he snapped his fingers and said a single word:

"_Ifrin._"

Then the pattern gleamed brightly, flared up; Pan sunk rapidly into it, her shout swallowed by the glyph as it closed liquidly over her head. The runic circle flared again, bright blue and complicated to Gohan's vision, then blinked out and was gone.

The Ifrifor had just swallowed Gohan's daughter, and Gohan himself did not know when, or if, it would give her back.

:-:-:-:

HE DID not know how long he meditated in the Kino'shun Gardens each day that passed after casting Pan into the Ifrifor. He had gone into the Gardens that first day to seek some relaxation, but the glittering lights had swum together into an image of Pan gaping at her mother—whom she was the spitting image of, only taller. Gohan's throat closed at seeing the two of them rush together into an embrace, tears forming as Pan babbled out something he could not hear.

Videl's shocked expression had him submitting a guess, especially when she seized their daughter with a desperate look. Their faces fell when Pan continued; Gohan had no doubt that it was because of his pretended ignorance of Pan's true identity. They embraced again, the first tears streaking down his wife's face, and turned to stride inside the house that had been Gohan's home before Typhol Isanaon summoned him away.

The scene shifted again to present him with all the members of the Z-senshi stuffed into Videl's living room and staring at Pan. No, not staring, Gohan realized, listening, for Pan was speaking, her hands sketching out a story he could as easily hypothesize. Her Blue Dragonfly Spear was laid on the low table before her, and Fulunke coolly looked at each person in the room, brown eyes inscrutable with quick judgment. He watched Pan pick up the Spear and light it up, the blade shining a faint blue while various reactions occurred around her.

A familiarly blue-haired Bulma leaned forward to study it with excitement; his brother Goten had no reaction other than that of restraining their mother from screeching about weapons (though Gohan wondered what would happen if she touched the Blue Dragonfly; would there be a reaction to one lost to the Succession as Chichi was?). Others were exclaiming in surprise, while Vegeta and Piccolo both had disdainful and stoic looks respectively, as was their nature.

The third and last image the Kino'shun showed him was a gradual procession, where he watched Pan slide from excited to be home to relief the next day, and then quiet and alert. Gohan could nearly see the gears of her brain grinding, and it did not alleviate his unease when Videl said over breakfast, the first words he'd heard so far, "You've changed quite a bit, dear. You're quiet, and you jumped when Uncle Goten came in yesterday. Are you sure you're all right?"

Pan's eyes snapped to her mother's face, but whatever she saw relaxed her. "Yeah, Mom," she forced out, smiling tiredly, "I'm fine. I..." She paused, scanning her mother's face again before rushing on. "I just don't feel like I fit in here anymore, y'know? I've gone through so much, but none of you understand, and—"

Videl waited for more, but their daughter had no more words. Sighing, Pan's mother placed her chopsticks down on her plate and regarded Pan steadily. Finally, she said, carefully, "You've only been home a week. You have to give it more time than that."

Pan's rejoinder was quick: "How much more time, Mom?"

Videl pursed her lips; Gohan inferred that she had expected this answer, but had offered the advice anyway. There were several reasons why he loved her, even after all this time, and this was one of them. Nevertheless, she had no answer, and Pan's mouth twisted cynically.

Her answer matched her face. "That's what I thought."

"Don't do anything rash, dear," Videl urged, leaning forward as though she hoped to drive the intensity of her plea through their daughter's thickening skin. "Give it some more time, another week."

"And then what?" Gohan would wince at Pan's tone, so acerbic it was. But Videl, never one to give up, rallied and said,

"And then, then we'll take you to a doctor or somebody else who can help."

Even Gohan knew not to say something like that to his daughter, who had proven herself to be a survivalist. As he thought, Pan stiffened on her cushion, but not so much that Videl noticed. Her voice, moreover, was admirably steady, when she asked,

"You would take me to a shrink? You do not believe me?" Ah, there was the hurt in Pan's tone; not all of her training was able to prepare her for this, the ultimate betrayal.

Videl appeared weary. "I do," she responded. "I just don't want you to feel out of place here, Panlet. If it takes therapy..."

Pan did not answer.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Videl said, worry creeping into her tone. "I didn't mean to." She peered across the table at their daughter, who sat still and stiff like an inactive Syr'nthan toy. Nonetheless, she did return a nonsense reassurance, her voice a tiny spark of animation out of place in a person so cold. Gohan didn't need to read _ki_ to know what his daughter was feeling; shock, fury, and betrayal, amongst others, outlined themselves in the rigid posture of her body.

Another week passed, as Videl requested, but Gohan knew it would not help. Pan was already colder, her eyes calculating as she looked at her family, or whom she had thought was her family. Now they were only people she could not trust, and Gohan recognized the expression in her face as estimating which of said people would be likely to help her, and which would only hinder, one of which was her mother. He was briefly sad, and wry, that it was her family on Earth that had finally taught her the suspicion he had tried to drill into her for the last year—and he could not take the blame from himself, either, for he had begun the process which the Z-senshi had finished.

The stealthy escape Pan made from Mount Paoz was not a surprise. She and Fulunke were standing in front of an unfamiliar pool of water with an odd shimmering above it when they suddenly, slowly faded into black. Gohan arose from the trance instinctively knowing that days had passed and that his Regnal Advocate was asleep on the border of the Kino'shun Gardens. Enrt's _ki_ was as close as it could get to the edge without falling victim to the hypnotic effect of the Flowering Stars—and perhaps he had already, considering how deeply he was sleeping when Gohan knew how Enrt could stay awake for days at a time if necessary.

Shaking his head at his Steward's loyalty, expressed time and time again with nary a word or extra embellishment, Gohan simply breathed for several seconds. As it was now, here in the Kino'shun Gardens, he was not just a Regnal, or a father, or a husband, or a son. He was merely himself, a person with doubts, fears, joys, and a reason for existing—in his case, his family, Earthian and Syr'nthan. He did not have many opportunities to just _be_, and he relished the opportunity to do so.

Soon enough, he pushed himself to his feet. The Kino'shun most likely would not mind having him sink into another trance, but Gohan had work to do. His daughter had chosen to return to his world, and as much as he would like to, he could not realize his reaction—hope, anger at his wife, anticipation—until there was time for it.

In the time he had before Pan returned, he had several matters to arrange, not the least of which would be an exhibition match between the two of them. The Ifrifor was excellent for more things than otherworldly travel—its original purpose was, in fact, as a training tool, a way to slow down time until the inhabitant learned all that she had to learn using an externalization of her inner self, which should be the true form of her Blue Dragonfly. If so, then she would not only learn how to fight properly, using a wide range of resources such as her Blue Dragonfly, herself, and her Familiar, but she would also learn the Four Sacred Dances of the Spear, which were far more important than anything else.

The Four Sacred Dances would prove without a doubt that his daughter was a true Syre Regal.

Not even Enrt and his ability for denial would be able to refute the evidence. This was, of course, without mentioning the uproar the Majestics would cause, the fuss they would stir up, especially if it ever came out that Gohan had known all along the upstart Son Pan's real identity—

Thus why he had to arrange an exhibition match. The match had an added effect of finally bringing the conflict between him and his daughter to a head, but that was, in Earthian terms, merely a bonus. If Gohan worked it carefully, then Pan would emerge from the fight knowing everything she'd ever wanted to.

He only hoped the shock did not kill her, or him.

:-:-:-:

ELEVEN DAYS after she chose to return, Pan exploded outwards from the glyph that was the portal into the Ifrifor. Gohan was there to catch her, _ki_ as helpful as ever in sensing shifts in the _ki_ landscape, and to carry her out of the Chamber of the Guardian of the Succession. Brisdain Iony was the first to see him proceeding down the hall with his bundle (who, even in sleep, was flexing her hands as if around an imaginary spear). He hurried toward them, alertness sparking in his gaze.

"My Regnal," he greeted perfunctorily. "This is the challenger, yes?"

"It is indeed, Regal Advocate," Gohan responded. Even as Brisdain Iony's eyes widened at his new form of address, he nearly stopped moving, so surprised was he. Gohan nudged him patiently out of the way and strode on toward the infirmary, his original destination. After a moment, Gohan sensed Brisdain Iony pull alongside and pace silently by his Regnal's (and now his Regal's) side. His _ki_, while still with an edge of surprise to it, had almost an air of ceremony about it, even as they stepped side by side. The Apprentice was already accepting the role he had been slated to fulfill; pride, proprietary for all that Willgait was not his, momentarily lifted one corner of Gohan's mouth, the side Brisdain could not see.

Then Gohan turned his head towards the Querche Palace Healer, Hatron, and handed over his daughter's unconscious form. He did not need to fabricate the grimness to the outline of his _ki_, or the more formal solemnity that accompanied it; he truly did not know how his daughter would fare after so long in the Ifrifor, only his concern went beyond merely ensuring that his Heir would survive.

He did, however, modulate the intensity of said emotions so that anyone reading his _ki_ would not be suspicious about the depth of his concern about a person that he did not know, other than as an intruder, as an unknown daughter, and finally as his Heir, his Regal.

"Stay with her, Regal Advocate," Gohan ordered. "When she wakes, send me a message." His look to the newly-made Advocate was meaningful.

Brisdain nodded, _ki_ flickering with comprehension, and marched after Hatron into the infirmary. Gohan remained where he was for a few moments, eyes nearly closed, then straightened minutely and strode off.

:-:-:-:

LATER THAT night, he stepped into the infirmary with his hands behind his back. Ki'ilin Icti startled at the sight of him, while Brisdain on the opposite wall sketched a bow.

"Regal Advocate," Gohan greeted. "Ki'ilin Icti Legea."

"Your Majesty," Brisdain smoothly rejoined, with Ki'ilin Icti stumbling afterwards.

"How fares Her Highness?"

"Sleeping still, my Regnal," the Apprentice informed him. "The Healers tell that it may be some time before she awakes."

"Very good," Gohan said, both praising and dismissing. Brisdain bowed once more, then saw himself out the door and past the stoic-faced and -_ki _guard just to the left of the door.

When the door itself slid closed, Gohan regarded the prone form on the bed silently. She was breathing unassisted, which pleased him immensely, and her _ki_ was stable. He had been reassured by Hatron, the Healer for Palace Querche, that Pan would be in a deep unconsciousness for several days still (which Brisdain had confirmed just now), and not to worry. Pan had been through much in the Ifrifor, and now, nearly four weeks in the suspended subspace that was the Ifrifor, her body and her brain needed a chance to settle.

That did not mean Gohan did not have care for his daughter.

Ki'ilin Icti Legea broke his reverie with a hesitant, "My Regnal?" When Gohan turned to him, the young man's face was tense.

"Ki'ilin Icti," he responded gravely, raising his eyebrows slightly. Legea went even paler, but he visibly bolstered his courage.

"Do you know how Pan came to be like this?" He gestured to Pan unconscious.

"She faced the Guardian of the Succession, and, upon gaining his approval, was placed into a site called the Ifrifor to help her evaluate her place in this world." Now Gohan motioned to Pan. "She has evidently made her decision."

"You...you made her face the Guardian of the Succession?" Legea had turned from hesitant to disbelieving. "Did you tell her what you planned her to do?"

"She knew what was expected of her," Gohan returned, retaining his grave face. He had been expecting something like this, from Pan actually, but Ki'ilin Icti seemed an acceptable representative.

"That is not good enough!" he shouted. The guard by the door started out of her post, lifting her blunt, short weapon, but Gohan waved her away and kept his eyes on the slowly-flushing young man before him.

Ki'ilin Icti breathed heavily, eyes darting from him to the guard, but did continue, more slowly, "That is not good enough. Pan does not know the Four Sacred Dances yet. She could not have—" He gulped. "She could not have defeated him, the Guardian of the Succession. She—"

"Gained the Guardian's approval," Gohan said gently. "There is more to pleasing the Guardian than merely having the right skills, or enough strength, and knowing how or when to use them. I know not what else Sulyild looks for, but I assure you that he was most emphatic about instating her as my Heir."

The giant of a boy trembled and looked so torn and lost. Did Gohan look so at one time? He must have, but had had other people and Zhais and Wyvenshire to ease his pain. Ki'ilin Icti did not seem to be so fortunate.

Just as Gohan was wondering if he should call for the Healer, Ki'ilin Icti was silent so long, the latter spoke up again. "Pan looked up to you. At the beginning, when she was just newly-inducted, she was so haunted, so_ guarded_ from what you had done to her, but she would always talk about how she just wanted to find her father. It was like she had this glow to her whenever the subject of her sire came up, and she would actually speak in sentences with more than six or seven words. It was so..._different_, when she was like that.

"But then when she found out that her father was the King of Syre, the very person who had put a bounty on her head, who had made her fear for her life, she just..._deflated._ And..."

He struggled for more words. Gohan let the seconds tick by without comment, then said, "I believe Pan has had an ideal of me as her father that no man may stand up to, much less I. This ideal may exist even now, as she sleeps, if in changed form. I cannot do anything about this ideal except act as I am and do what is my duty, which is all I may ever do."

He inclined his head, grave as ever, to a stunned-appearing Ki'ilin Icti Legea. Taking one more glance at the steadily breathing Pan, he nodded at the guard, left.

:-:-:-:

STANDING IN the only room of Phaves, the third Palace of Syre, Gohan waited, tall and erect, for the seething mass of Syr'nthans to settle into the recessed seats lining the walls. He had been there since the first of the spectators had trickled in, so for the moment he was, ironically, ignored as tens of his subjects chattered with each other, their _ki_s bright with anticipation, excitement, and _life_ in general.

Every so often Gohan just had to appreciate the sheer vitality his Syr'nthans had, and which was in everything they did. Sometimes, as right now, he was even grateful for it. It told him that he had done _something_ right at least, when else his day was riddled with doubts and frustrations.

Like today very well could be.

Enrt caught his gaze and nodded; Gohan inclined his head a fraction of a centimeter, and cast his eyes once again over his residents of Syre. He felt his most Regnal at this moment, in ceremonious yet practical dueling clothes that, as was to be expected with Enrt as his Advocate, fit him perfectly; never before had he ever felt quite like the King his title claimed him to be.

What vanity. Snorting to himself, Gohan gradually built up his _ki _until it was a tad bit higher than the highest _ki_ in the room (other than his), then flared it bright in one blinding split-second. The chatter died as heads swung towards the King of Syre, patient in the center of the giant platform, ready for all of Syre to listen.

"Syre!" he began, moving nothing other than his mouth and his head. "As most of you know, a month or so ago, the College of Syre Arts was attacked by the infamous pirate Dreadnought, _Rebel's Melee._ However, the students and the teachers of the College rose admirably to the defense of Syre's oldest institution, and one in particular stood out. For then, while in battle against the Pirate Captain Ingu Rhoat himself, Son Pan declared herself the Regal of Syre, and my daughter.

"Over the last few weeks, Lady Pan has been presented with various tests of the Succession to prove her claim." He paused and swept his eyes over the ranks of people sitting below and around him, then announced, "She has passed all of them."

The resulting clamor was not as loud as it could have been; nearly all of the Syr'nthans in this audience had expected it. Gohan waited it out, however, before speaking once more.

"Now, she is here to engage in an exhibition match with myself, your Regnal, to prove to all that she is worthy of the title of the Regal of Syre. Remember, the Syre Regal must be in possession of four things: A fighter's byname, an Energy-Infused Weapon, a corporeal Familiar, and mastery of the Four Sacred Dances of the weapon of choice. Remember also that the Regal is not required to defeat her predecessor, as I did with the previous Regnal, King Tsulikthinroe Typhol Isanaon Quivenwood Wyvern. Instead, she must demonstrate any attribute she wishes: cunning, strength, speed, awareness, as long as such attribute proves her worthiness, and that she uses it wisely and does not abuse it."

The people of Syre remained in captivated silence, all eyes on him. Nodding slightly in approval, he stepped back and looked to his right behind him.

"Regal Advocate," he called to the alertly waiting Brisdain Iony, "please admit Her Highness."

The Advocate bowed. The doors he stood by swung open to his strong voice proclaiming, "Her Highness the future King Tsulikthinroe Aodh Pansengir Quivenwood Wyvern!"

Son Pan stood with her head held high in the doorways bracketing her.


	5. Fighter

THE RESPONSE to Pan's appearance was utter pandemonium in that it was entirely silent. Not one person other than Pan made a move, not one person other than Pan caused a sound. The noise Pan's shoes made was loud, and she could not be missed as she moved into the room. But, Gohan was very proud to see, his daughter showed no fear, only held her head higher and her _ki_ burning bright.

Her gaze did not change as it met his, even though Gohan could sense the confused mixture of emotions hiding just below the surface: determination, a strange dread, and the need to prove herself, among others less able to be qualified. Gohan, for his part, gave nothing back, but only said, "Your Highness," and bowed slightly.

"Your Majesty," Pan returned, bowing in her own turn. Her pride had returned when she straightened, even going so far as to put a slight smirk on her face. Gohan inwardly raised an eyebrow at that, but he knew that whatever Pan thought she had, it would require more than that to defeat _him_. Twelve years as a Regnal would not be impressed by a scant half-year at the College of Syre Arts.

That was what the next few decades were for.&lt;!--more--&gt;

"Your Highness is aware," Gohan said, rather than asked, "that this is her final test on the journey to claiming her title of Regal?"

Pan nodded, not deigning to reply. "Very well," Gohan continued. "Then state Your Highness' byname, the name of her Energy Infused weapon, and the name and affiliation of her Familiar."

His daughter's eyes told him what her byname would be a moment before she stated it. "My byname is Zekyriel, the Heart of the Crystal Flame."  
  
She held her hand out and was suddenly resting the butt of a blue spear taller than herself on the ground. "My Blue Dragonfly," she indicated her Spear by virtue of raising it slightly, "is called Benefor. My Familiar..."

Fulunke's form shimmered into existence and sat primly at his Bonded's heels, regarding him with solemn black eyes. Pan finished with a slight flourish, "My Familiar is Fulunke, the Dog Star."

Gohan inclined his head. "Very good." Meeting his daughter's eyes, he declared in a voice recognizable as his own only by the mouth from which it issued, "My name is Blitzgazel, the Dancer of the Flowering Stars. My art is the Way of the Red Firefly Sword, with Zhais," a screech of sparks as he drew his Red Firefly out of the very air in front of him, "and the Crow Star, Wyvenshire," a harsh croak announced his Familiar's arrival high near the ceiling, "to guide me."

As he finished drawing Zhais and his sheath out of subspace, Wyvenshire spiraled down to his shoulder, fixed a baleful eye upon the picture that Pan, her weapon Benefor, and Fulunke the Dog Star made.

For seconds, they all matched gazes, Pan's with his, Wyvenshire's with Fulunke's. Gohan barely noticed as he slid into a stance, Zhais gripped in two hands over his ear, legs spread apart and balanced on the balls of his feet. Pan had her spear arced forward and across her body, a defensive stance that covered the most vulnerable part of her body, and was absolutely still as she hawkishly watched his every move.

For better or for worse, they were ready, and Gohan could not ever remember a time when he had been so uncertain of his fate—and both exhilarated and apprehensive about it.

:-:-:-:

"I AM stronger than I was last year, Your Majesty."

Pan's voice was rough, interspersed with pants after their initial clash of power had thrust them both away from each other and into their stances again. Gohan did not answer, but Pan did not require him to.

"Last year I knew nothing about this world. I went from place to place, trying to find out more, got a price put upon my head, and had more disasters happen to me in the space of two months than I'd ever had in my entire life. But then I heard of the College of Syre Arts, and how it would not turn me in, and I've been training there ever since. I've learned many skills and perfected my strengths. You won't find me such an easy target for your machinations now!"

She catapulted towards him with no other warning, but Gohan had seen the signs of her movement already. Slipping Zhais around Benefor's tip, he slammed the staff to the ground, pinning the blade with just enough force so that she could not bring it up again. Wide eyes focused on him just in time for him to say, "Why do you think I let you go for so long?"

Benefor wrenched out from underneath Zhais. Pan stared at him with horror; he straightened while she gaped. The words tumbled from his daughter's lips soon enough.

"Th-that means you knew who I was from the beginning!" she gasped. "You wanted me to train and get stronger!"

Gohan smiled mirthlessly. "Very good," he paused, "_Panlet_."

Pan's eyes flared wide; she looked cornered, the same expression on her face that she'd had a year ago when barely she knew anything about this world. "Why?" she choked out, seeming ready to drop Benefor and settle into the more familiar art of hand-to-hand combat.

"Because you were too trusting when you first came to this world," Gohan responded seriously. "Why, even an old man standing in the Forests of Ellfaul with a bird on his shoulder commenting about ill-intentioned sorts could have ulterior motives."

"That was you." Pan's voice was flat, weary, betrayed too many times that nothing should surprise her anymore. Gohan both hoped and hoped not that this was the case. He hoped she was not surprised by the political squawkings that the Majestics engaged in, but that there were still beautiful things left that could move her heart. Like any good father, he wanted his daughter wise, but still innocent, even when the world, and himself especially, conspired to make her otherwise.

"That was I," Gohan agreed, bringing himself out of his reverie with the ease that years of practice brought. He continued, "You needed to learn more about the world in which you suddenly found yourself, and there is no motivation quite like the desperation of survival to stimulate such learning."

"To say the least," Pan retorted. Life had crept back into her eyes, settled into the same expression that her face had worn during her stay beyond the Ifrifor. Suspicious, calculating, but yet with something deeper, a burn that needed not to sustain itself on the determination to prove her worthiness: the Heart of the Crystal Flame. The shock of betrayal had already worn off; Gohan suspected that it was both his daughter's training and her preexisting expectations of him that aided her recovery. But he had one final thing to say, and then their fight would begin.

"But that is not the last of it," Gohan preempted, before Pan went too far in her preparations to resume their fight. She paused, Benefor again in the air, considered his words.

"The last of what?" she finally asked, wariness entering her tone. Gohan had the vague sense then of the great silence then, not only between themselves but in the room at large. It felt to him as if more than just the single room of Phaves was listening in on their conversation, held their breath bated.

"The last of my reasons to treat you the way I did, my daughter," he proclaimed, tuned in now to the ripples of the audience at his way of addressing Pan. Pan, too, seemed to sense it, but she never wavered from eye contact, never faltered from her stance.

"What would that be, my father?" she asked instead. Pride and surprise nearly overwhelmed Gohan in equal measure at her response; pride that his daughter had snapped up his hint and cooperated with his language, surprise that she had. He kept his _ki_ carefully controlled, however, and only let a sliver of the former emotion escape.

"To force you to gain experience not only of in living in Eicoi, radically different from your previous world, but also to prepare you for situations where the extreme measures I took are usual. I speak, of course, of the Court of the Majestics."

Stillness alighted onto Pan even as a roar erupted outside of the platform. As Gohan had predicted, even if only to himself, the Majestics themselves were screaming their outrage, while the rest of his subjects either stared blankly or chatted furiously amongst themselves. The din was nearly deafening, but not nearly so to prevent Gohan from hearing Pan murmur, "You've been planning this all along. From the very beginning..."

"Yes, from the very beginning I have intended to instate you as my Heir and my Regal."

The bedlam without ceased to exist as surely as if it had never existed when Gohan next met Pan's eyes. "Now, show me what my machinations have wrought," he challenged. "Come at me with what you have learned. Show me your true power and that you are worthy of my faith! Prove to me that you are my Regal!"

:-:-:-:

THE CLANG Benefor made when it struck against Zhais was musical in its own way. The harsh sound that Wyvenshire made as he blocked Fulunke from biting him was not. Gohan dodged away from the Familiars, called, _"Airec!"_ while thrusting two fingers out towards them. Fulunke was sent flying with the force of the shield Gohan wrought; Wyvenshire flapped his wings several times before diving after the Dog once more.

Gohan ducked then and somersaulted forward. Zhais swung upward to meet in a clash of sparks over his head, then grew heavier to support Pan's weight as she launched into a flip over his head. Gohan helped her complete the move with interest, but Pan smoothly turned the extra pressure into more momentum, spinning Benefor around in one movement rather than smashing the Spear into the floor. Gohan jumped up and momentarily rested on the bladed tip of Pan's wing, then sprang from that into a backflip that would have kicked back anyone slower to respond. But Pan was there to lunge at him when he landed; Zhais was happy to block for him and push his daughter back to a respectable distance away from them.

The bolt of _ki_ Pan threw his way then was quite impressive, but more so when she coordinated the sweep of Benefor with another attempt on Fulunke's part at assault. Nor did she let the wait to see his reaction incapacitate her: When Gohan had swept Fulunke aside and cut the blast in two as casually as one might sever a string with a machete, Pan was already falling onto him from the sky, Benefor glowing in her hands.

The problem with Pan's attack was that while her plan was excellent, she left out a vitally important part of Gohan's defense. Wyvenshire darted into Pan's path and sent forth an invisible force of _ki_ that knocked her back even in midair and nearly lost her her grip on her Blue Dragonfly. Gohan launched himself into the air as well, the walls falling down around him to present him with the rafters and the top of Pan's head—

Pan vanished under his sword stroke, her afterimage chopped in two, while the real copy popped up on the platform floor. Zhais' upswing discharged a wave of _ki_ down at her, but it was too late, the Kamehameha Wave she'd hastily prepared overwhelmed it easily. Gohan dug his hand into the white blue of the nostalgically familiar technique, held it at bay while spilled from his lips the words _"Roiben gaghe, slaveck tomin!" _

Quick as a blink, the Kamehameha Wave was gone, vanished, but both Wyvenshire, somehow at his side, and Zhais glowed red, and an eerie wind stirred...

_"Falfer!" _Pan's voice screamed as Gohan began to fall. The word pleased him, for it meant that Pan knew the only counter: Benefor and Fulunke had indeed been thorough in training her. Blue and purple roared up to meet him, but he merely swung Zhais two-handed down to intercept it, his Red Firefly humming ominously in the wind still blowing. Wyvenshire too swerved downward, black beak opened wide but silent, eyes beady...and thrown wide when he and Gohan, Zhais thrumming loudly, all said,

_"Roiben filsche!" _

Blue and purple washed over them in an impressive wash of strength and _ki_, but Gohan, Zhais, and Wyvenshire would not be stopped. The blade seared through the plume of violet and indigo as if it were the jam Gohan and Wyvenshire had particularly come to like over the years. All three of them knew even without looking that they left veins of red laced through the blue violet, holding it back, in their wake; whirls of the same red as that behind them swirled before them, lancing through the flume before the Red Firefly.

They arrived at the thickest part of the torrent and could go no further. Red writhed against purple so dark it was nearly blue, and blue such that it appeared black. White seeped from the point of contact, where Zhais and Gohan's mind met with Pan's blade and soul in a hopefully awe-inspiring show of _ki_ and will. The fire of stars matched against the heart of a crystal flame, and neither won at first blow.

Gohan, however, was not yet defeated: He forced a hand away from the fierce struggle against the indigo-violet-blue violet deluge, that ghostly white streaming faster from its origin at the move, and pointed just above the very heart of the clash. One word did he speak, and red blue scarlet purple indigo violet exploded outward in a ring of endless light and sent both Gohan and Pan spinning violently away from each other.

Gohan tumbled head over heels and landed on his feet, stepping gracefully into a stance as natural as breathing. Pan turned, also on her feet, and swung Benefor in a narrow circle punctuated with a sharp lunge at the end and the words "First dance, Sodeshuno!"

Gohan was already lost in the movement of his answering onslaught, pacing elegantly with Zhais swirling in accompaniment as words dropped from his lips in form of "First dance, first dance, Sonador, _Sonador_!"

Unlike the struggle that had transpired between Falfer and Roiben Filsche, between Blitzgazel and Zekyriel, the First Dances did not linger upon impact. Pan's Sodeshuno was a drove of crystalline needles, glowing brightly with an inner flame, but against the glittering cloud that was his Sonador, the same soporific as found in the Kino'shun Gardens, it simply crumpled away, disintegrating as it fell. Sonador, too, disappeared, dissolving gently into the atmosphere having spent itself against Sodeshuno.

No matter the strength of it, none of the Dances functioned when used against the other, which made them useful for exhibitions demonstrating the worth of a Regal since no damage was sustained by either the Regal or the Regnal in using them. Too, it did not hurt that only the Syr'nthan Majesties were entrusted with the knowledge of them or had the strength to receive that knowledge. Pan, by using her First Dance, had already established for certain that she was whom she claimed to be, but tradition demanded that she exhibit mastery of all Four of the Sacred Dances of her chosen weapon, so this match would have to continue to the last, most deadly dance.

"The First Sacred Dance of the Spear," Gohan said when the noise from the stands had sufficiently died down. "His Majesty congratulates Her Highness upon receiving it from the heavens."

Pan narrowed her eyes at him, but only responded with the traditional answer: "Her Highness thanks His Majesty, but regrets to inform him that the First is not the Last."

"Indeed." Gohan inclined his head, but moved not to take his gaze away from his daughter's lest it spark off the Second Dance before it was time. They were both in the stances they'd ended in, but it took little effort to move into the frame for the Second Dance: That was what the movements were designed for, after all. "Regnal and Regal Advocates," he then called, speaking to the _ki_s snapping to attention behind him, "mark well that Her Highness Aodh Pansengir has demonstrated proper mastery of the First Dance of the Spear."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Steward and his Apprentice cried. Gohan could feel them bowing behind him, even if he couldn't see it, and contemplated that he'd have to deal with Enrt's clear shock later. Then he returned his entire attention to his daughter. "Shall we resume, Your Highness?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Quick as a flash, Pan had whirled into action, Gohan acting in simultaneous time as Wyvenshire and Fulunke flew high or padded clear as their physiology demanded. This was not yet a fight for the Familiars, though perhaps their presence would be useful when the Last Sacred Dances came into play. Some exhibition matches did not end with the Last Dance, after all, but went much further out of exhilaration and adrenaline.

"Second dance, Konsui!"

"Second dance, Dokaken!"

This time, Pan's attack consisted only of wisps of blue flame that drifted about and were mesmerizing to watch. When Konsui tried to go to into effect, however, Gohan could clearly see the ripple through the wisps as they contracted together and formed a wall before Pan. For a second, Gohan clearly saw the pattern Dokaken took in order to enthrall the enemy; then Pan caught the _ki_ attack he sent at her with Benefor and swung it back at him in imitation of a boomerang, and his attention, and memory, was distracted.

When Gohan batted Pan's rebound away, he tumbled forwards just as Pan skittered backwards, reading his daughter's rather loud body language. _Ki_ bloomed from Zhais' tip, then spread to cover the entirety of the sword's blade. Zhais itself was droning deafeningly; when the _ki_ reached the end of the blade and touched the hilt, it exploded in a shower of sparks to revolve around Gohan's form. A cry of "Third dance, Eiree!" met his own announcement of his Third Sacred Dance, the wisps of flame from Pan's Second Dance which had not disappeared now spouting forth an inundation of blue and blue so light as to be purple flames. Whatever the effects of these flames might have had on Gohan, he did not find out, for Cente redirected the surge away from him on two sides. Not much of the Third Dance remained to him when Pan's Eiree finally subsided, but enough indeed to be able to perform the Fourth Dance with some reasonable effort at presenting a challenge.

Gohan did not attempt to determine what action Pan was taking with her Benefor now, only removed Zhais from the ground and settled back on his left leg, the most far-reaching leg this time, and stared down the entire length of his Red Firefly at his daughter. Pan herself was in an odd stance, balancing on one foot while Benefor slanted over her shoulder, but Gohan did not spare the time to wonder at it.

"Fourth dance, Pth!"

Gohan watched as the globules of _ki_ spun from him towards Pan. His daughter immediately reacted, straightening her arms out of her strange pose but leaving her upraised leg intact. Gohan narrowed his eyes as he watched his daughter, for there was something peculiar about her _ki_. She was also moving too slowly to counteract his Fourth Dance, unless that _was_ part of it, but judging by the distraction Pan's _ki_ professed, this was not the reason.

That was unacceptable. Gohan did not know if, in actuality, the Fourth Sacred Dance would do more than harm a Saiyan such as he or Pan, especially with how little intent he put behind it, but he was not of the mentality to find out. His daughter needed to overcome precisely what distracted so, what internal debate had her _ki_ gradually flickering wilder and wilder—

And Gohan did not see any option that would not be marked as interference upon Pan's behalf, other than to use a technique Pan herself was intimately acquainted with. A technique that had always dealt a great deal of damage no matter the target it was used upon...

He drew Zhais into a downward two-handed angle pointing behind him, diagonal as it reached towards the floor. White streaking blue billowed even before he said the first syllable, Zhais so attentive to his _ki_ that even an attack unfamiliar and nearly crass, so primitive it was, could prevent them from performing it.

"Ka...me...HA...ME..."

Pan's head snapped up at the recognizable chant. The look shifted imperceptibly between him and the globes spiraling towards her feet, and widened. _Ki_ spiking, Pan skipped a pace backwards and swirled Benefor around her head again, but the second time Benefor reached behind her, she awkwardly jumped into a midair somersault. The action was rough, to be sure, her momentum having been interrupted by whatever crippled her before, but it succeeded: _Ki_ swirled around her again, building up as she flew and twisted around. Gohan expected her to slam Benefor onto the floor, a logical extension of Pan's trajectory and her Blue Dragonfly's orientation. Benefor slammed against something, true, but against the air, or something within, rather than the floor; it seemed to be both resisting and holding Pan up in the air as she cried, "Fourth dance, Mrn!"

"HAAAAAAA!" Gohan roared. Pan leapt away from the solidified air she'd struck, clearing the circle of tiles whereupon Gohan's Pth orbs had circled before they'd abruptly vanished (Mrn's effect upon them, undoubtedly); Benefor was already laid horizontally across her chest defensively as she fell back, but she and the Spear were too spent, to unprepared to effectively counter Gohan's and Zhais' Kamehameha Wave...

The brilliant blue with white core bored directly onto its target. Gohan only put so much _ki_ as to provoke Fulunke into jumping onto the platform, Wyvenshire following, then cut the offensive. He could feel that the time was correct, both in the settle of his own power as tied not only to himself, but to Zhais and Wyvenshire two, and in the circumstances to remind his subjects of the limits of his awesome power as Regnal. The weight of the cosmos' intentions alighted gracefully upon his shoulders, turned him into something otherworldly—Gohan could feel it—even as he, Zhais, and Wyvenshire breathed.

Pan clearly felt the same change in the atmosphere, for she was upon her feet and staring at them with wide, scared, unusual violet eyes. The cosmos were changing her, too, they could feel, but likely, very likely, she did not know what instinct caused her to gather Fulunke and Benefor closer to herself, did not see the echoes of blue and purple stirring about the three of them in a strange twilight...

"Belte no Seiryuu," they called, the voice rolling from them that of the heavens, the stars, the Kino'shun residing in a frail, three-personed body that nevertheless was the only vessel able to contain it, channel it, direct it.... Blitzgazel felt as if they were moving in slow motion, raising the blade part of them from their side, furling their wings, spinning gracefully upon claws and talons and toes and feet, the enormous force within them sloshing sluggishly into awareness.

Another turn, another snap of wings, another clever placement of claws and feet, and the liquid stars deep inside of them reached upward with wet tendrils, a hollow voice asking without words, without intent, without light, only the huge spangled darkness rising to a command, a request, a plea. The third swing, the darkness spilled, not all of it, not enough for the stars to peek out, but enough to feel like drowning, like Blitzgazel would never live again, this tsunami so choking, so relentless, so _filling_—

The final stamp, the final point, the final flap; the dam ruptured. Thousands upon thousands of stars, the spirits sent to live among them, the formless, conscious-less shapes of the gods, all, all broke out of them, swirled across the gaping maw between them and the other triad, incomplete, immature, but strong..."Belte no Seiryuu"...

They watched, panting for breath and breathing normally, drained and full, exhausted, limp and energized, taut as a string, dispassionate, detached and connected to everything, everyone...as Zekyriel flashed into being, the triad seamless in that instant, that eon of time as Seiryuu of the Belt smashed into them, the demigod form splitting the Dragon into two, the echoes of nine split forms fading into yet unfulfilled potential behind them...Hunte no Kyuubi still a dream, a conception more than reality, but not so far off from existence given time and dedication, one of which would be granted, the other already had in abundance.

Zekyriel died, then, and Blitzgazel felt themselves fading, lifting with the ascending stars, leaving behind only Wyvenshire, Zhais, and Gohan to walk over to the crouching Pan, Spear melted in her hands rather than proudly upright, obliterated in the course of not only withstanding Seiryuu of the Belt, but also splitting into two...

Because none of them, Pan, Benefor, or Fulunke, sprawled out at his Bonded's feet, had the capability of further resistance, Gohan was able to lay Zhais along Pan's shoulder, the blade barely a centimeter from the skin of her neck, and say, "Yield, _my Regal_."

:-:-:-:

IT WAS a long time before Pan looked up at him, the film of her shock receding only slightly at what expression Gohan bore upon his face. Wetting her lips, she took several tries before she could reply, creakily, "I yield, my Regnal."

Time returned then, thankfully, if with a jar quite in line with its essentially sadistic nature, to the correct speed. Gohan sheathed his sword, his ever faithful Red Firefly, and reached out a hand for the first time in thirteen years to his Heir, his daughter, the light of his life for six short years, his Panlet. Dazed, Pan somehow freed her hand from the dire mess of her melted Spear and accepted it. She glanced up in the moment, met his gaze. The pride Gohan felt, the blazing joy bursting in a supernova behind his ribs must have shown in some little form on his face, for Pan's slackened and seemed so young—

He pulled her to her feet, turned her to face the queerly silent arena side. It appeared as if millions of eyes, irises and pupils and whites, were upon them after their match, the world unbearably suddenly expanded, but Gohan, knowing they were only his subjects, laid a hand upon Pan's thin shoulder and squeezed.

"I am about to yell," he told her, too low for even the closest to hear or see that he was speaking; Pan nodded imperceptibly. Her _ki_ lowered in its nervousness until it was reasonably calm—either Pan had learned control or his gesture was truly having a calming effect upon her—and Gohan judged he could continue.

_"Syre!"_ he bellowed, like the Dragon his Masterstroke was named after, _"Rise, and acknowledge your new Regal!" _

The bows were slow to come, shock and astonishment effective forces in keeping his subjects from realizing the full situation just yet. Pan regained her composure then, standing tall as the respect finally bowed its head to her. Gohan squeezed his daughter's shoulder again, bent far enough to say, "Even Regnals need guidance, but anyone may look and find it waiting for them." He waited for Pan to nod, _ki_ relaxing once more, stance becoming more comfortable but no less confident, then said, "When this is over, as soon as possible, we shall pay a visit to the Earthian world. There are some words for our family I would like to have with them."

He released Pan then, pushed her a little forward. She started to turn back, _ki_ displaying her second shock for all Syre to see, were it able, but Gohan spiked his own _ki_ in warning. He was proud to see his Panlet control the jerk of her head, instead straightening up again. She stood in front of her future subjects with pride, the pride of a Saiyan and a Regal evident for those versed in seeing both.

Gohan smiled, turned to stroke Wyvenshire on his breast (the crow glared at him mock-irritably for his presumption at forcing him to fight), and happily faded into the background for the time being.

In this moment, his world was complete. He had found his daughter and satisfied not only the requirement of a Regnal to produce an Heir, but his own personal need to see her and have her near. Through his machinations, as Pan had termed them, he had seen to it that she was trained not only in ways that allowed her to fit into this world, but to survive in it. Perhaps he could have found another way to accomplish the same feat without causing such severe mental trauma, but Gohan felt that it was this severe mental trauma that had so equipped Pan with the necessary motivation to use her determination to survive—a determination that had been patent even at a precocious four years old, when she'd been bound and determined to keep up her grandfather Goku's legacy of excellent fighters.

Gohan had gambled that this determination still persisted within her, and his gamble had succeeded. Nonetheless, if his gamble had been so unlikely to succeed as it had, the Kino'shun Gardens would not have allowed him to proceed with his plan, or indeed helped him refine it. His own heart would have failed him had he not had the absolute conviction that _this_ was the road to take...

Nevertheless, relief still spun through him. Relief, and exhilaration, spun a web of new possibilities out beneath his feet, possibilities closed to him before by the lack of an Heir and squabbling Majestics to placate. Some of these possibilities Gohan had ever dreamed about taking, such as visiting his old dimension, and some to be accomplished only when Pan was ready to shoulder the burden he must necessarily heap upon her. Some possibilities, though tempting, must never be taken or revealed as possibilities, while others might needs be teased out by virtue of stubborn concentration. They all existed, there, alive, and Gohan thought he might be dizzy with all of them.

_Careful, my Regnal,_ Wyvenshire cautioned, placing his beak against Gohan's brow. _Get through this moment first; then you can plot and maneuver to your heart's content. _

Though his crow's sly smirk was not physical, it still warmed Gohan to his core, adding to the already bubbling core of joy boiling away within him. _Aye_, he teased, though his face never inched but one jot from its stern composure, _and you can nitpick and glare at me all you please while I do so. _

Wyvenshire harrumphed, his claws squeezing Gohan's shoulder warningly, but without drawing blood as he was capable. Gohan again stroked his feathers, soothingly, then dropped his hand and stepped forward. Peace, unbelievably, had found him, and while Gohan was sure it would soon dim against the annoyances of life as the Syre Regnal, one piece of his life had snapped into place.

He, Son Gohan, King Tsulikthinroe Faull Whyque Quivenwood Wyvern, King of Syre, son of Son Chichi and Son Goku, husband of Son Videl, father of Son Pan and the future King Tsulikthinroe Aodh Pansengir Quivenwood Wyvern, could now aim to find the others of his family.

FIN L'OPERA


End file.
